


Unwilling Dovahkiin

by Lokaal



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Mentions of incest, Slurs, bad language, i'm so terrible at desciptions, it was supposed to be funny but then, rated mature for, some gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 59,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4755161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokaal/pseuds/Lokaal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honor is a matter of circumstance. Ellayna is a woman wearing a mask of lies and secrets with an inescapable past where her love was once sold to the highest bidder. To be the Dovahkiin is the very last thing she could want; yet it is what sets her on the path to realizing her redemption and the finding the chance to be with someone who could give her peace in a life of chaos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Palace of the Kings

The Palace of the Kings was a dreary place. Full of sweaty men and a lust for war. Or was the politically correct term rebellion? It mattered not. Ellayna was perched on her stool, which a servant had thoughtfully placed in the middle of the wide gap between the feasting tables and Ulfric’s throne, looking about the gloomy palace. The colours of the cheerless blue and dull yellow of the banners above that very throne were almost trying to brighten the grey and cold stone walls up. It made her wince. 

What was making Ulfric wince was Ellayna tapping her heel. She had noted this immediately upon being all but dragged into the palace; thus proceeded to do it. His cringe was worth the slight ache in her calves from doing this constantly for minutes. Other than the rhythmic tapping, all was silent in the palace. Someone, a nameless someone of obvious importance, had promised to get mead and return instantly. His return had not been instant and they still waited. 

Ulfric’s temper soon got the better of him. He had been trying to quell it by chewing on the back of his thumb, reclined back in his throne, but that was completely unsuccessful. “Will you stop that?” 

Ellayna made a point of slamming both her heels down and leaning forward on her stood. “Will you release me?” 

“You are the Dragonborn, you’re free to do whatever you bloody like according to most of Skyrim.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

Ulfric’s jaw hardened. “Then how did you kill the dragon outside Whiterun?” 

“That’s not what I meant. I’m not free to do–” She mimicked his voice, dropping it low and gruff, “–“Whatever I bloody like”.” 

He took a deep breath in, then exhaled while muttering a prayer beneath his breath. “But you are Dragonborn. You don’t deny that.” 

“I don’t want to be Dragonborn, if that counts for anything.” 

“No,” Ulfric bit. “It does not count for anything.” 

Ellayna crossed her arms over her bosom, sitting straight backed and with a pout. “You’re not a gentleman, are you?” 

He seemed to take a moment to register what she said. “What?” 

“Because if you were a gentleman, you would not keep an innocent wee girl here against her will.” 

Before Ulfric could spill any nasty reply, two men entered the throne hall from a side room. One was who had left for mead, which he carried uneasily in two tankards. The other was a storm of a man, trudging toward them with a grim look. The head of a skinned bear sat on his head and its paws were draped down his shoulders. The bear-man took one disdainful look at Ellayna and turned his attention to Ulfric, striding up to his side. “Where’s the Dragonborn?” 

Ulfric sighed nosily, gesturing at Ellayna. “You were looking at her, Galmar.” He was given his mead, thanking who he called Jorleif. Jorleif carried Ellayna’s tankard to her and she politely clutched it in her lap between her two hands. 

“This ain’t the time to have a sense of humor,” Galmar hissed between his teeth. He glared at Ellayna like it was somehow her fault she was the Dragonborn. “She’s a tiny little woman. She doesn’t even have a weapon and you think she killed a dragon?” 

“It can’t be a coincidence that I met her at Helgen and how she’s here,” Ulfric leaned forward. “Tell me, Ellayna, why were you going to be executed in Helgen?” 

She grinned widely, tilting her head to the side. “I stole a piece of bread for my little sister.”

Ulfric’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Is that the truth?” 

“No, I lied. I hit an Imperial General over the head with a bottle of ale,” she continued to grin. “Or I refused the advances of an Imperial Soldier. Or I slipped poison into someone’s tankard.” 

“Which is the truth, girl?” Galmar demanded.

“All of them. Or none. Whatever you decide, really.” 

“If you won’t give a straight answer to that,” Ulfric ordered with a snarl, “Then tell us how you killed the dragon outside Whiterun?” 

“Arrow to the eye. Took the bastard down quite nicely.” 

Nobody answered immediately. Ulfric seemed to be preparing himself for the worst when he eventually spoke, “Truthfully, that is what you did?”

“No. He slipped and snapped his neck. I just happened to be there.” 

Galmar snorted. “Really?” 

“Nope. I threw fireballs at him. Sort of. I tried to.” Ellayna thought for a moment. “Or I threw a stone at him and he swallowed it and choked to death. Or–” 

“Enough!” Ulfric silenced her with his bellow. His back fell against the back of his throne and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do you lie?” 

Her tankard dropped as she stood. Mead spilled everywhere, much to Jorleif’s horror. Calmly Ellayna stepped over it, stride toward the throne with a smirk. When she came to the steps up the small dais to where Ulfric sat, she picked her layered jade green skirts from the floor. She stepped to him, standing against his knees, then dropped her skirts and placed her hands on her hips. “I lie because it doesn’t matter who I am or what I did. I am Dragonborn, no matter how much I don’t want to be.” 

Ulfric watched her with a scowl. “Can you swing a sword?” 

“No.” 

“Can you defend yourself?” 

“Probably not. I could hit a man over the head with a heavy object, but I don’t know about truly defending myself,” she leaned in toward him. “You want me to be a Stormcloak?” 

Galmar cut in before Ulfric’s answer came. “We need the Dragonborn, but not a pretty little woman in skirts. We need a warrior in armor and arms.” 

Ellayna nodded fitfully. “Then you won’t need me and I’ll be on my way.” Before anyone could stop her she whirled around and shot back down the dais. She began the long walk through the hall and to the giant double doors that led to Windhelm. 

The only thing Ulfric did was call after her. “You need to fulfill your duties as the Dragonborn! Or would you rather see the world burn because of this dragon menace?” 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing the world burn,” Ellayna shouted over her shoulder. “It’s not as though it’s done anything for me.” 

“Don’t be a fool, Ellayna.” 

“I’m many things, Jarl Ulfric, and a fool isn’t one,” she paused mid-step, considering. “What would you do for me, hmm?” 

“What would you want? I can give anything short of a crown.” 

She spun on her heels to face him, skirts puffing out and twisting, a grin on her plump pink lips. “Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse. Anything? An allowance of coin? A house? Clothes and jewelry?” 

“With terms, of course. But yes. You will need to join the Stormcloaks and receive training with weapons, most likely from the Companions.” 

“A thousand septims a week. A house here in Windhelm for my things, and you send me presents of jewelry and clothes. Oh, and a pretty horse.” 

Ulfric’s jaw hardened. Both Jorleif and Galmar looked as though they would object for him. Galmar in fact stepped forward, mouth open to bellow, but a gesture from Ulfric muzzled him. “We have a deal, Ellayna,” Ulfric nodded. “But you must go to the Companions now.” 

“On my pretty horse?” 

It grated Ulfric to say it, yet he still replied, “Yes, on your pretty horse.” 

“Well, then I’ll be on my way,” she saluted him mockingly, turning back to the doors as she did so. “Good talk, Ulfric. You won’t be regretting this!” 

Ulfric grunted. “I think I will be.”


	2. Jorrvaskr

The sight of Whiterun on the horizon could be seen for leagues. Although she had passed the trading hub on her way to Windhelm, Ellayna had continued instead of venturing into the city. Now she was being forced to by Ulfric. Apparently the Companions would be more than willing to train her. She’d see about that. Somehow she doubted they would want anything to do with her; but if she fled, Ulfric would stop her allowance and there would be no more gifts. 

On the cobblestone road up to the main gates, just before she came to the stables, something caught her eyes. From atop her new and beloved pinto mare, Butter, she could see over the boulders and fences. Three warriors in plate armor battled an ugly, enraged giant. They encouraged with loud shouts for any warriors nearby to join them –Ellayna turned away. She would rather not be clubbed to death by twelve-foot-tall humanoid beast. Instead she hurried Butter up to the stables, where she gave the reigns of her horse to an excited man about her age named Jervar. He was exclaiming about the giant when Ellayna turned on her heel and got away as quickly as she could. The sooner she got up the pathway to Whiterun’s gates, the better and the less likely that giant will have the chance to follow. 

She was permitted into Whiterun without being questioned; all she had to do was bat her eyelashes at one of the guards and he readily admitted her. He brazenly suggested she might come visit the guards barracks later and she nodded, her prettiest smile plastered on her lips. She, and the other, less infatuated guards, knew she would not be going anywhere near the barracks. 

Looking little more than the innocent young woman she was, clad in green skirts and a loose cream blouse, she made her way up the sloping street of Whiterun. Locals smiled and greeted her politely, and one old, jittery woman was very obliging in telling her where Jorrvaskr was. 

Ellayna made her way up the staircase between the market square and the Gildergreen. The ancient and rather dead tree was something she had heard a lot of, no matter where she was. She passed it and made her way up more steps to the two sets of twin doors that led into Jorrvaskr. She was a little embarrassed at how winded she was and pretended to be fine as she entered the Hall of the Companions. 

The few members inside the mead hall gave her strange looks. All had some form of armor on, usually heavy, and most members had scars as a sign of their trade. Ellayna was still gawking at the Companions and taking in the sights of the hall when the doors of Jorrvaskr opened behind her. Something hit her back and she went tumbling haplessly forward. Whoever caught her arm and kept her from making a fool of herself further had her thanks. She went to voice as much, but faced a steel breastplate when she whirled around. Mouth open, she looked up until she found his face. The giant of a nord was regarding her with a slight frown. She reached up and pat the top of his long-haired head. “How did you get so tall?” She asked in genuine confusion, taking her hand away. 

 

“Don’t reply, ice-brain,” a woman, face streaked with war paint, ordered. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Ellayna distrustfully. “And let go of her arm.” The man did so unquestioningly. “Are you lost? You don’t look like the kind of person to be hanging around warriors.” 

“Unfortunately, I’m not lost. Ulfric sent me, if you can believe that.” 

“No,” the woman was scowling. “I can’t believe that.” 

“Just let me talk to the Harbinger. Then I’ll be out of your hair.” Ellayna intended to make Kodlak Whitemane see her being there was a mistake. 

“I’ll take you down to him,” the man offered with a smile. 

The woman’s nose wrinkled but she turned to stride down to the feasting tables, speaking over her shoulder. “Whatever, just stick to that getting out of our hair thing.” 

“She’s certainly cheerful,” Ellayna muttered under her breath. 

“Aela? She’s solitary, doesn’t like the amount of people around her as it is,” with that the man started walking. Ellayna followed, presuming she was meant to. Standing just beside and behind him, she could barely see passed his wide shoulder. 

She had expected to introduce himself but when he had not by the time they got down into what seemed to be the living quarters, he had not. Ellayna asked, “The name’s Ellayna. What’s yours, you huge nord?” 

“Farkas.” That was the only answer she got. 

They went to the end of the corridor soon, where a set of double doors were closed. Farkas told her bluntly to just knock and he left her to it. After a moment of watching him, she then racked her fist against the wood of the door. She heard a stiff “enter” and admitted herself. 

Two men sat on the opposite sides of a little, round table. One looked startlingly like Farkas, only slightly smaller and had a nasty glare. The other was an older man, white of hair and of beard, with a tattoo crawling across one cheek. They both looked at her expectantly and waited for her to speak. 

“Ulfric Stormcloak sent me,” she tried to smile but it turned into a grimace. “Wants me to get training from your little guild. I think we both know, just from looking at me, that that’s a bad idea. So if you’d just pen a letter to Ulfric saying I’m untrainable, that would be very much appreci–” 

“You are now a Companion.” 

Her mouth fell open with astonishment while Farkas-look-alike did the same with offense. “What do you mean?” He demanded sourly of who could only be Kodlak. “She can’t be a Companion. Look at her! Not to mention she was sent by Ulfric.” 

“She is a Companion now. I deem her worthy, Vilkas. Can you not see it?” 

Ellayna laughed loudly, more out of nervousness than actual amusement, and Vilkas sneered. “See what?” 

Kodlak smiled. “You forget yourself, lad. Don’t base opinions on physical appearance. As for Ulfric, I received a missive from him explaining everything some days ago about the Dragonborn.” 

Vilkas sent a glare to Ellayna but continued to speak to Kodlak. “You’re kidding me, right, Kodlak?” 

“I never kid, Vilkas. You should see what the Dragonborn’s skills are like in the training field.” 

“No, no, no,” Ellayna gave on a sickly polite smile. “I am not Dragonborn. I don’t want to be. This is a mistake; I’ll be going.” 

Unfortunately, as Ellayna bolted, Kodlak called out, “Farkas!” By the time Ellayna turned the corner to run up the stairs into the main part of Jorrvaskr, she collided with the giant nord. He just stood there, smiling down at her. 

“What’d you do wrong?” He asked, not moving out of her way. 

“Please,” she begged, biting her lip at him. “I found out I’m not supposed to be here. So if you’d just let me pass–” 

Vilkas came into sight. Ellayna gave a yelp and tried a different tactic; pushing and shoving at Farkas’ chest and shoulders. He didn’t move a muscle. If she could only get passed him, she would flee Jorrvaskr and Whiterun. No allowance and no gifts had to be better than fighting and sparring against these men. 

“Pick her up,” Vilkas instructed irritably. “Kodlak wants to see if there’s any talent we can wring out of her.” 

Farkas nodded and within a second Ellayna was over his shoulder. Hitting his back with her fists would only hurt her because of his armor but she did so anyway, pleading for him to put her down. Ellayna was forced to watch Jorrvaskr pass them from her bobbing and bumpy ride. The other members of the Companions looked on with amusement, oblivious to what was really going on but snickered anyhow. 

They passed through a set of doors. Ellayna felt more than saw they were outside; it was not until Farkas gently placed her on her feet that she saw they were in a training courtyard. Vilkas selected a blunt sword and a battered shield. Ellayna had nothing in her hands until Farkas brought a sword and shield to her and literally placed them in her grip. 

“I don’t know how to fight,” she told him hoarsely. 

“It’s easy. Just swing like you mean it.” 

“I don’t know how to mean it.” 

“Just swing at him like you want to hurt. But don’t hurt him, he’s my twin.” 

Ellayna looked heavenward. “What the hell did Ulfric get me into?” 

“Dragonborn, hurry up!” Vilkas snapped. Cautiously Ellayna stepped out into the training yard, cringing at the weight of the weapon in her hand and the shield on her forearm. “You’ll have to get rid of those long skirts,” Vilkas told her. “They’re constricting to fight in.” 

“I don’t exactly plan on being here that long.” 

Vilkas set his feet into the correct position. “Ready?” 

“No.” 

She screamed loudly as Vilkas swung at her. The only way she defended herself was bringing the shield up automatically to stop her body from being harmed. The blow rattled through the metal and into her bones. She stubbornly kept her shield up high, cowering behind it. 

Vilkas stilled, but it was Farkas who spoke in a hushed murmur, “Ellayna, lower you shield!” 

“I’m not a fighter,” she excused herself, not moving the shield. “I know nothing about any of this.” 

Vilkas groaned. “Hopeless.” 

Kodlak’s voice surprised her. “She can be taught. I know she can be.” 

“I think you’re mistaken,” Ellayna corrected, finally looking over the round metal disk. 

Vilkas groaned, “I second that.” 

“She can be,” insisted Kodlak. “Try again.” 

More slowly this time, at half-speed, Vilkas swung his sword. Ellayna whimpered as she blocked it. Every instinct in her body telling her to run. Then Vilkas encouraged her to hit at him, which she did so halfheartedly. They exchanged a few blows like that, but stopped when Kodlak nodded and turned wordlessly to stride back inside. Immediately Vilkas took Ellayna’s weapons and his own back to the weapon’s rack, muttering curses to himself. 

For a few minutes, Ellayna stood alone in the courtyard. Never had she wound up in a place like this before. All her life, all twenty-two years of it, she avoided fighting. She knew a little destruction magic, a little archery, but that was it. Nothing else. What need did she have of it? Where she used to be, and what place in the world she used to occupy, weapons and swords and fights were not a part of her life at all. 

Farkas, letting Vilkas pass him and go inside, stepped down to Ellayna and clasped her shoulder. She did not think he realized he nearly threw her off her feet. “Let’s get a mug of mead, pup,” he grinned with the offer. A drink was exactly what she needed, and despite her gloomy thoughts, did not object to it.


	3. Luck

As per usual, Ellayna avoided any direct questions about her. Not that many were asked; they were far more concerned with how a brawl in the streets when and how Njada had pulled the men apart. For some reason the Companions were endlessly amused by this and by whoever had caused the brawl –she knew no one in the city and the humor failed on her. On one side of her Farkas laughed loudly, clearly showing the effects of the flowing mead, and Aela was lounged on her chair, arms hung over the back of it, to Ellayna’s other side. Small as a mouse Ellayna sat and listened to their coarse laughing, promising herself that soon she would be gone from there. Where would she go? She still puzzled over that. There was a friend close to Falkreath, so she kept that open as a possibility. 

Ria was the first to move from the tables. She seemed to have more control over herself than some of her comrades. Ellayna was watching her distractedly when a thick hand thudded on her shoulder, very nearly knocking her forward into the half drained tankard before her. 

“It’s time to show you where you’ll sleep, puppy,” Farkas sounded less drunk than his grin led on. He stood and moved from the table as Ellayna was still questioning, Puppy? Privately to herself. After a moment she followed, glad to be leaving the rowdy table. 

In the living quarters, Farkas showed her the rooms in which the ordinary Companions slept. Ria was already there, stripping off necessary metal plates to sleep. Farkas grinned and nodded at Ellayna, which she supposed was a sort of “goodnight”, then left her to it. Well, in Farkas’ case, it would be a “goodnight, pup”. She expected him to go further into the living quarters to his own chamber, but instead he immediately went back upstairs to the hall. 

“Take this bed,” Ria abruptly said, petting the bed next to where she stood. “Njada always has the one in the corner, otherwise she’ll sulks or worse, and Athis and Torvar take the beds on the part of the rooms. Nobody really wants to go near Torvar.” 

Ellayna could imagine. She had seen the drunk singing and downing more than a reasonable about of mead in the short period of time she had been sitting at the table. She cringed at even the thought of the pungent smell alcohol on him. 

Storing her little knapsack with her few possessions inside underneath the bed, she shed what clothes she needed to and crawled into the bed. The furs that acted as blankets were more tickly and uncomfortable than she initially thought. She gritted her teeth and put up with it. Soon. Soon she would be gone. 

Although she planned initially to pretend to doze, she truly did sleep. Something in her woke her up at the perfect time. She hated to admit it, but there was a chance that was “Dragonborn” intuition. Restraining from sighing, she sat up in her itchy bed. Both Ria and Njada were sound asleep. She could hear snoring from Torvar, and could only just see Athis’ sleeping figure. Soundlessly, she slipped out of the bed and slipped on what clothes she could. She carried her traveling boots and went barefooted, hoping that would conceal her escape. Slinging her knapsack over her shoulder, she left the chambers. 

All of the Circle’s doors were closed. She crept away as silently as if they were open. If anything, she knew how to walk soundlessly. That was one of the few good things about her upbringing and young adulthood. 

Once out into the hall part of Jorrvaskr, she thought she was in the clear. Hurriedly, still muffling her steps, she made immediately toward the set of double doors that would lead to the staircase, and from there she would go down and passed the Gildergreen. That had been the plan at least. When she reached the doors, a hoarse voice rumbled, “Pup?” 

She yelped, hands flying to her mouth to hide the sound. She whirled around, looking for him. Farkas sat at the table, staring at her tiredly, tankard in hand. “What are you doing?” He asked her, more disappointed than angry. 

For once, she did not lie. “It’s obvious I’m not suited to this place, Farkas.” 

“That doesn’t mean you should leave in the middle of the night.” 

She sighed at his logic. Dragging her feet, she left the door and went to him. “Did you think I’d run?” 

“Vilkas thought you’d try.” 

Sitting on the table with a thud, thinking it would give her a little height on Farkas, she rest her feet on the seat. Sliding her knapsack off, she let it hit the ground with a thump and a little jingle, then did the same with her boots. “So you sat out here and waited?” 

“Vilkas had been until a little bit ago. You’re lucky it was me who saw, puppy.” 

 

The corner of her mouth twitched whenever he said pup or puppy. “I suppose that was a good thing then,” she looked at her bare, slightly dirty feet. “Would you let me leave? I don’t want to be here. I’m not a warrior.” 

“Sneaking away isn’t honorable.” He meant it not as a sneer or a lecture, but a simple stating of the fact. 

“Ulfric wants me to be here; it’s not really my choice.” 

Instead of replying, Farkas gulped some his mead down. Then he looked at Ellayna and waited. The black war paint around his eyes was so smudged now it was grey –he had clearly been sleeping before he sat up to be sure Ellayna did not flee. That made her wonder; was it truly Vilkas’ idea, or Kodlak’s? Or, even more likely, Ulfric had anticipated it and then told Kodlak to. 

Ellayna cocked her chin at Farkas. “Do you think I’ll flee now?” 

His brows came together. “That’s up to you.” 

She smiled at him suddenly, thinking of a new plan and a new sequence of actions as she spoke. “I suppose I’ll have to stay a while more around you rowdy nords. Though, I can’t promise I’ll be of much use.” 

“Are you a nord? Torvar and Njada were placing bets once you left to sleep. None of us were really sure.” 

“Farkas, I’m whatever you want me to be. Nord, Breton, and, hell, even an Imperial. It doesn’t matter whatsoever.” 

He went to say something but closed his mouth again. Instead he just nodded. 

Yawning, Ellayna stretched, reaching her hands toward the roof. “I suppose I should sneak back into my uncomfortable bed and pretend nothing happened.” 

“I won’t tell.” 

She cocked her chin at him. “This is a newfound loyalty. Why wouldn’t you tell? You gain nothing by it. Perhaps you’d even loose something by it.” 

He gave her a little smile. “I just don’t want to, puppy.” 

Though a little dubious and not used to men doing something out of kindness, she nodded in cautious acceptance. She claimed her knapsack and boots from the floor, gave Farkas a smile and left him. Once again there was no goodnight. 

-

Either none of the other Companions realized what had happened last night, or they said nothing. Somehow she thought it was the former; nords were loud and opinionated, so if they thought something had happened, they would not keep quiet about it. That was generalizing, of course. Farkas was keeping quiet about it. 

As Ellayna had eaten a breakfast of porridge and rye bread, cringing a little, Ria all but bounced up to her. “Aela wants you in the training yard.” She whirled away, some other task more important than waiting for Ellayna to reply. 

Since she had been late up, Ellayna was last to eat. Everyone else was already going about their days, so Ellayna hurried to finish breakfasting and went out to the training yard. Aela was restringing a bow, sitting at one of the tables. She squinted up at Ellayna, then returned her gaze to her work. “Since you can’t use blades well,” she asserted. “Let’s try you on something else. Ever used a bow?” 

“A little, but only for hunting.” Rabbits. She shot rabbits when she was younger, to make a rather pitiful meal out of. 

Aela growled at her, “Why didn’t you pipe up and say that yesterday?” 

 

“Probably because I was too distracted being bashed by blunt metal objects,” Ellayna retorted. “And I’ve never used them very much, or very well.” 

“It’s time you learnt properly, then. You have to be able to fight somehow.” 

“I’d like to think I could talk my way out of most situations.” 

“Well you aren’t talking your way out of this,” Aela stood, taking the bow with her as she began down to the actual yard bit. “Hurry up, Dragonborn.” 

Ellayna reluctantly followed, glancing to one side as she did so. Against the furthest wall that could still be counted as the training yard, was Farkas and Vilkas. Farkas stood, arm folded over his chest, while Vilkas sat not far from his feet. They murmured about something but the distance was too great for Ellayna to hear. 

Apparently Ellayna was worse with a bow than she initially thought. Aela constantly pushed her feet into the correct stance, or lifted Ellayna’s elbow to the right height. At first Ellayna struggled to even hit the target. Her ever having hit a rabbit must have been pure luck. With hours of strenuous and tiring help from Aela, though, Ellayna could already note an improvement. That did not last long. 

Ellayna felt Skjor’s presence. She heard the natural coarse tone of his voice and was distracted. Whatever he was saying was important; her gut instinct told her so. Aela hit, not very lightly, Ellayna over the head for being distracted but that did not bring all of her attention back. Skjor did not venture to Aela and Ellayna himself, leaving whatever the message was with Farkas and Vilkas. Vilkas was shaking his head as Farkas approached the two archers, grinning. “Puppy,” he beamed, “We’re going to be shield-siblings during your trial.” 

“I don’t know what that is,” Ellayna winced, taking a deep in, “But somehow I feel like it does not bode well.”


	4. Dustman's Cairn

Apparently a “shield-sibling” was what the Companions called their comrades when they fought together. Despite this new nickname Farkas could have called her, he still insisted on “puppy”. Ellayna was caught between finding it either simply strange or strangely endearing. 

They left Whiterun early on Ellayna’s second morning with the Companions. It was cold enough that morning to make Ellayna shiver, her skin covered in goosebumps. Aela had lent her leather breeches and leather breastplate, which was tight in places she did not want it to be tight. She also wore gloves borrowed from Ria, an armguard on her right arm, and her original riding boots. The ground was covered in a thin layer of frost which crunched beneath her and her peer’s feet. Despite Ellayna’s discomforts, Farkas seemed unaffected, walking as normally as he would on a pretty spring morning. 

At Whiterun’s stables, Ellayna greeted Butter with loud cooing. Pulling out an apple she had snuck from Jorrvaskr, Ellayna tried to break it in half to feet it to her curious mare. Butter nibbled at her fingers as she tried to break the stubborn apple, which she was bruising instead of breaking. Farkas, looking mildly amused, gently took the apple from her hands and twisted it abruptly. It snapped immediately. With satisfaction he fed Butter one piece and gave Ellayna the other, rubbing Butter’s nuzzle briefly then moving away to speak to the stable-master. Ellayna just stood there dumbly for a moment, Butter greedily sneaking the other half of the apple from her open hand. 

Once Butter was saddled and bridled and Farkas had secured himself a mount, a black gelding, they were on their way. They traveled west along the cobblestone road. Ellayna had little idea where they were going so she was more than pleased when Farkas naturally took the lead. Dustman’s Cairn was not a place she had heard of before, but that mattered little. When she was speaking to Farkas about this trial last night, he had told her they were rescuing an important item. “A shard of Wuuthrad,” he had smiled fondly. “We’re to retrieve it and bring it back here safely.” The way he had said it made her not want to ask what “Wuuthrad” was, to save her from offending him. Although offended wasn’t quite the right word. He would have been disappointed, which was far worse than angry. She had found out later on when asking Njada and Ria about Ysgramor and Wuuthrad. She had of course heard of the battleaxe and the leader of the Five Hundred Companions, just had not known its name. 

“Puppy,” Farkas’ words pulled her from her thoughts. His eyes were fixed on something ahead of them. “Vilkas said you were the Dragonborn.” 

It wasn’t phrased as a question but she thought she would answer it as one. “I am, supposedly. I don’t want to be though. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be here at all.” 

“Are those the bones of the dragon you killed?” 

They were indeed. They were nearing the Western Watchtower, or the ruins of. The dragon had near destroyed it. But that was not the most startling thing there was not the piles of stones or the angles of fallen walls. It was the bones of the immense dragon. Ellayna noted that it was missing a few pieces, ones that were easily whisked away, but mostly it was a whole skeleton. She giggled upon seeing the arrow still lodged in its eye socket, the burn marks on some of the rib bones, the stone where its throat once was and the unnaturally bent angle of its neck. “And Ulfric assumed I was lying,” she mused to herself. 

“You used Destruction magic?” Farkas had his arm outstretched and finger pointing accusingly at the dragon’s few charred bones. 

“Uh… yes?” Ellayna winced. There’s no way she could lie out of that one. “I’m not very good. I know you nords don’t like magic and any of that sort of thing, but in all honesty, you’ve seen me fight. Who am I going to hurt?” 

Farkas glanced at her and for a moment she wished she had phrased it quite so tersely. Then he returned his gaze to the road. She could have sworn she heard him mutter, “You did kill a dragon,” under his breathe. 

They traveled until midafternoon. It was then they came across the cairn. Simply put, it was a round, dug out hole in the ground with pillars that had curved tops surrounding it in no particular order. They tethered the horses to one of these pillars, leaving them enough rope to graze. 

Entering tombs had never sat well with Ellayna’s conscience. Which was probably why she had never been inside one. That and the draugr. There were many things Ellayna was willing to do and willing to have done to her person, but for some reason she had drawn the line at tombs, especially when she should have drawn the line at various other things in her life. 

Taking her new hunting bow into her hands and notching one of her steel arrows, she followed behind Farkas. He led again, opening the crypt’s doors slowly. He snuck inside, Ellayna nervously following at his heels. 

How exactly the first encounter with draugr in that musty, horrid stone place went was hazy. Ellayna recalled firing three arrows, two of which missed. The third hit one draugr in the meat of its thigh, causing a distracted and enraged reaction. That gave Farkas enough time to use his greatsword to cut down that one just after the other two that had come at them. Surprisingly he did not criticize her for scarcely helping, instead gesturing for her to continue following him. 

From narrow passageways they came out into a wide, open room. Ellayna breathed out a sigh of sheer relief when there was nothing moving or alive inside. “Look around for supplies, pup,” Farkas slid his sword into its scabbard attached to his back. “Could be something useful around.” 

Slinging her bow over her shoulder, Ellayna did as she was told. There was a cove in the wall that looked promising. She saw a chain to be pulled, and refrained from pulling it. She hadn’t seen any doors. But there could be one later on. After a few moments of nagging temptation she pulled the lever. She had not seen that there was an iron gate on the front of that cove. It groaned then slammed closed, locking her inside like a prison. She pulled on the chain again, trying not to panic. The gate did not lift up and it did not lift open. “Farkas!” She shrieked in panic, throwing herself against the iron bars. “Fuck! Farkas?!” 

He came running. A look of amusement passed over his face for a moment until he registered her panic. “I’ll get you out,” he tried to reassure her. 

“I don’t want to die in a cage,” she cried, reaching through the bars to him, “I don’t want to die I can’t die in a cage. Get me out! Let me out, please!” 

“I’ll find the release,” he promised, taking her hand. “Calm down, pup.” 

That train of thought was interrupted. Someone ghosted from the shadows, a grin plastered on his scared face. “What do we have here?” He sneered as a woman joined him. 

“Look at the big one,” she hissed, circling like an animal. More people came from the shadows, silver swords drawn. “He’s one of them.” 

“Which one of those beasts is he, though?” 

“Don’t matter.” 

“I’ll skin ‘em, like I skin the rest of ‘em.” 

“Let’s spill his blood.” 

Farkas pushed Ellayna’s hands so they were inside the cage’s bars. He met her eyes grimly before turning to face the opponents. There were at least a dozen now, hovering with bloodlust clear in their expressions. 

“You’re going to die, dog,” the first one snarled. 

Drawing a deep breath in, Farkas’ shoulders slumped. Then expanded. His bones crackled as they morphed shape. His armor gave way to sprouting fur and was soon covered. Arms lengthened and thick, black claws spurted from his fingers. From behind, Ellayna could see his spinal column shifting beneath his fur and skin. A tail formed from the base of his back. There was a snap and something that sounded like churning as Farkas’ skull changed shape. He opened his long, dense muzzle and get out a howl of rage that vibrated in the air and through the ground. 

The attackers were momentarily stunned. One foolhardy man leapt forward, bellowing a war-cry. That ugly sound became a gurgling scream as Farkas’ claws ripped into his neck and down his chest. Spurts of blood followed him to the ground. More fighters then came at Farkas, determined to either kill or be killed. They were torn into like they were nothing more than paper. Even with their armor, leather or steel, they were exposed to Farkas’ claws and fangs. One man’s skull was crushed in Farkas’ jaws. Guttural sounds of hate and rage was all that came from Farkas. He took one man in his maw and threw him across the room. The snap meant the man did not survive colliding with the rocky wall. Did Farkas even register that it was human beings he was tossing around like ragdolls? They were the enemy, but Ellayna had to wonder how much control he had over himself in that state. 

It did not take long. The dozen or so attackers were in pieces on the ground, their blood staining their skin and pooling around them. Farkas’ chest heaved and he shook with either exhaustion or thrill. He let out a low growl, looking at the bodies around his feet. Did he see if they moved, if they were still living? Without prompting he seemed to remember Ellayna. He lifted his head, regarding her with a canine expression she could not read. Then he darted away, down the passageway they had yet to explore, the claws on his toes tapping against the stone. 

A few breathless minutes passed. It briefly occurred to Ellayna that he could have abandoned her. Then the cage’s iron bars began to lift and she laughed aloud at her own foolishness. Farkas would not do that. She was able to step free of the cove in the wall, the burden of her entrapment lifting from her, and she stepped around the bodies and blood. She began toward the way Farkas had went, wondering if it was a beast or a man she would encounter. 

Farkas was leaning against a rocky wall, out of breath. He was human again, his armor donned and his body splattered with blood. She had not thought he had been struck while as a beast some small scratches on his upper arms told her differently. 

He smiled when she approached. “Did I scare you?” 

“What was that?” She asked in reply, grinning wryly, “And where can I be one?” 

He gestured for her to wait. From the small knapsack at his hip, he pulled a little vial with a red liquid out. Yanking the cork out of it, he downed it with a cringe. He then shuddered as the potion went down and the magic rejoined any open wounds he had. “That was a werewolf form,” he slipped the vial back, “And only members of the Circle are werewolves.” 

“I wouldn’t mind staying in the Companions if I got to be that…” 

“You’re not even supposed to know, pup,” he stood up on his own and began to continue their journey through the cairn. He looked as though he wished to say more but refrained from it. Ellayna took her bow back in her hands and followed him. 

The next time they were attacked, they heard them first. Ellayna notched an arrow and waited for them to come around the corner. She yelped in shock as her arrow struck the first man in the eye. Farkas took down his comrade with one felling hit. He glanced at the one Ellayna had killed then back at her. 

“It was an accident,” she squirmed. “But I suppose it worked well?” Farkas continued without a replying Ellayna asked as she tailed him, “Who are these people? Why are they dead set on killing Companions, of all people?” 

“They’re the Silver-hand. They hate werewolves.” 

“Hate them? Why? Did they not see that awe worthy power?” 

Farkas tensed then shrugged. “Kodlak and Vilkas think it’s a curse.” 

She watched curiously him for a long minute. “And what do you think?” 

“I don’t know.” 

That conversation would have progressed into her pressing him for answers if they had not walked into the next chamber. Immediately Farkas spun on his heel and charged straight back out of the room. Ellayna only saw what had made him flee when he was behind her and peering at her from the doorway. Frostbite spiders. Two of them, both huge and one twice the size of the other. The smaller noticed them first, watching blankly with its many eyed stare. Then the second one noticed, jumping back in fright. That only lasted a moment and soon they were charging. 

“Farkas?!” Ellayna squealed but he was nowhere in sight. In her panic she put her hand out and did the only thing her mind knew how. Fire. Balls of it erupted from her palm, blinding the larger one. As the smaller was startled by the heat bolts of fire hit it as well. The smaller one scrambled about as its body burned. It would not survive that much fire. Ellayna loosened an arrow and killed the larger one, using three more arrows in the process. 

She sent her glare toward Farkas, who was looking around the doorframe. In some way he looked guilty, but he was also stopping himself from smiling. “You had been saying about your Destruction magic?” 

“Your panic made me panic,” she pouted as she set her hands to her hips. “And what the hell was that about?” 

“I don’t like spiders,” he answered quietly. 

“You fought a dozen silver-hand by yourself and won.”

“I don’t like spiders,” he repeated. 

 

Shaking her head, she led him through the web strewn chamber. Their feet stuck to the ground where there too much of the sticky thread. When they made it out, another nasty surprise was awaiting them. Ellayna did not have the time to react as a draugr tried to bring down its axe down on her head. Farkas shoved her out of the way just in time to block the attack. She saw that much just before she landed hard on the ground with a cry. She heard the draugr groan as Farkas ran it through with his greatsword. 

He stepped to her, grabbing the two hand she held up to him. With enough strength to all but lift her up, he pulled her back onto her feet. “Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly. 

“You should be,” she huffed at him, privately deciding she would be letting him enter rooms first for the rest of their mission. That however was not a vow that would last long; this appeared to be the last room. In the middle of the chamber, on a dais, sat a stone table. A shard of metal sat there, among soul gems and vials of potions. Behind that, a tall, semi-circle wall stood strongly. A word just off the center glowed, drawing Ellayna to it. 

Wordlessly they moved toward the dais and the word wall. Hugging herself, Ellayna stepped passed the table and up to the wall. All she could see was it. Her mind hummed with its presence. There was pleasure in seeing that glowing word. Then it was gone, becoming just another word on the wall. But it was engraved into her mind; for a long moment, she could still see it in her eyes. 

“You okay?” Farkas called to her. She nodded, turning back to see him taking the shard of old metal and spilling it in into his knapsack. 

They let promptly. It was an uneventful trip back through the cairn to the outside world. The excitement gone, Ellayna was weary when they emerged. The skies were darkening now, stars just beginning to show in the vast sky above. 

Farkas looked worse than she felt. The changing into a werewolf had drained him. When they were out onto the grass again, near where their horses watched them with intrigue, Farkas sat on the ground with a grunt. He rubbed his eyes, smearing the war-paint around them even more. Ellayna sat beside him, removing her bow and quiver, then lay down on her back. After watching her for a moment, Farkas set his sword aside and joined her lying down. 

“Pup, in the cage,” he asked slowly, unsure, “Why did you panic so much?” 

She turned her head to look at him, idly pushing copper hair from her face as she answered with a smirk, “Isn’t a woman entitled to some secrets, Farkas?” 

He glanced at her, his face reddening with sudden embarrassment. 

“Don’t fret,” she giggled, “Men who blush are always more interesting than men who don’t.” 

Farkas began to laugh, and soon enough Ellayna did as well. What exactly they laughed at, she wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. They laughed together, lying in the grass, simply for the hell of it.


	5. Hail Sithis

Ellayna was unbelievably pleased to be at the huge gates of Whiterun again. She was oddly satisfied, as well, that she was able to be bringing the shard of the blade of Wuuthrad with her. That she had not been anticipating. Despite her various failures in most of the fighting, she was feeling less resentful that she had been all but forced to join the Companions. There was still a weight on her chest with the responsibility of being the “Dragonborn”. That made her glance back toward the cloud shrouded Throat of the World. The jagged mountain pierced the sky, constantly reminding her of the call the Greybeards made. Shaking her head, she followed Farkas inside the city. 

They passed the citizens of Whiterun with polite smiles. More than once they were forced to halt because someone wanted to have a word with Farkas. By the time they were ascending the steps to the square that harbored the Gildergreen, Ellayna was ready to leave Farkas to it and march into Jorrvaskr by herself. 

“You have no patience, pup,” Farkas remarked in his almost annoying candid way. 

“I don’t know how you aren’t ready to drop,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s dusk and we’ve been traveling all day, as well as all day yesterday.” She shook her head. “You bloody nords.” 

He laughed, his attention coming to the figure at the top of the steps leading up to Jorrvaskr. Vilkas sat on the top step, brow drawn together in a scowl, his elbows on his knees. He wore casual breeches and a tunic, looking oddly smaller without his armor. He was looking as exasperated as Ellayna felt, however. “You two,” he growled. “Do I even want to know what you were doing to take so long? I’ve been sitting on this damned step listening to Heimskr rave. Never have I wanted to literally rip a man’s ability to speak out of his throat before.” 

“Vil,” Farkas was amused although slightly reprimanding. He paused beside Vilkas when Ellayna expected him to keep going and enter the mead hall, glancing back at the Dragonborn. “Is everyone ready?” 

“Sure are,” his tone was nearly a sneer as he stood. “If you would follow me, Dragonborn.” 

Ellayna gave Farkas a look, seeing him encourage her. So she apprehensively followed Vilkas, suddenly rebuking herself for being less irritated at Ulfric. Whenever something was puzzling or not going her way, she decided with wry amusement, she could and would blame Ulfric for all of it. Vilkas led her to the training courtyard at the back of Jorrvaskr. Kodlak, Skjor and Aela were forming part of a semi-circle. Vilkas joined them, motioning offhandedly where Ellayna was to stand. Farkas then completed the shape and the Circle was all together. It was a very daunting sight, five warriors studying her with expressions ranging from grim to proud to thoughtful. Although only Farkas wore armor, it was nevertheless unnerving and Ellayna’s feet shuffled awkwardly. 

“My brothers and sisters of the Circle,” Kodlak began, fulfilling his duty as the Harbinger. “Under Kynareth’s blue sky we welcome a new soul into our ranks. This woman has endured, challenged and shown her valor. Who here will speak for her?” 

Farkas spoke, barely able to contain the smile on his face. “I am who has stood witness to the courage of the soul before us.” 

“Would you raise your shield in her defense?” 

“I would stand at her back, so that the world might never overtake us.” 

Kodlak inclined his head approvingly. “Would you raise your sword in her honor?” 

“It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes.” 

“Would you raise a tankard in her name?” 

“I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories.” Farkas was fully grinning now. 

“Then the judgment of our Circle is complete. Ellayna’s heart beats with the fury and courage which has untied the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, and that the mountains may echo, and our enemies may tremble at the call.” 

Vilkas, Skjor and Aela spoke in time with Farkas as they uttered, “It shall be so.” 

Ellayna let out a nervous laugh, covering her mouth with one hand. She was not entirely sure what to do, or say. 

“I’ll pen a missive to Ulfric,” Kodlak told her, beginning toward Jorrvaskr. “You still have much work to do, but you’re now one of us.” 

Suddenly she smirked and called to Kodlak, “Tell him I still don’t forgive him!” 

“Much work,” Vilkas snorted. “That would be an understatement.” He was ignored, as Farkas went to Ellayna, and Aela and Skjor were murmuring to each other. It looked like a grave conversation and Ellayna wanted nothing more than to listen but was distracted by Farkas. That, and she was mildly concerned at what Aela would do to her if she caught her eavesdropping. 

“Let’s go inside for that tankard of ale,” Farkas grinned. “Unless you’re too tired, pup?” 

“Not now,” Ellayna slipped her arm under his, resting her hand on his forearm. “What I would love, though, would be to hear that song you mentioned in the initiation?” 

Farkas boomed a laugh. “Puppy, I don’t think you’ll ever be wanting to hear me sing.” 

Inside Jorrvaskr, the celebration was already getting underway. If nothing else, nords knew how to drink. That was even more true since the only who were not nords, Athis and Ria, did not drink nearly as much as the others. The only of the Companions who did not join them, once the other three had come inside from the training yard, was Kodlak. 

The newly recovered shard of Wuuthrad now had pride of place sitting on the table before them. Ellayna was happy to watch more than drink, getting more than a few laughs out of her new comrades. Vilkas and Farkas had the occasional bicker and at one point Aela threatened to skin them both. The only thing that put a dampener on that evening was Athis. He said very little and kept his intense red gaze lingering over Ellayna. She had not even talked to the dunmer before and wondered what she could have done to offend him. 

It was roughly midevening when a courier entered the mead hall. His beady eyes scanned the hall and swiftly found the person he sought. Out of his knapsack he pulled a letter as he strode to Ellayna. “For your eyes only,” he told her, glancing at the mostly half-drunk Companions around her. He leaned forward to murmur in her ear as he gave her the letter. “Hail Sithis.” 

The message was clear. As he pulled away, the Courier gave a nod to Ellayna and made his retreat. The letter was unmarked and its wax seal blank, but Ellayna knew who had sent it. Although she herself was not a part of the Dark Brotherhood, a very close friend was. 

She touched Farkas’ arm, a gesture that she was taking her leave. With that she stood, hurrying from the hall and down into the living quarters. Although she would have enjoyed to see Farkas and Vilkas arguing about exactly how they had taken down that albino stag, she was pleased to be out of Athis’ line of sight. 

As everyone was up stairs and Kodlak’s doors closed, Ellayna was able to be alone on her little and uncomfortable bed pallet. Tucking her legs underneath her and pushing her hair behind her ears, she broke the seal and opened the letter. It read: 

“My Darling Ellayna, 

Lately a lot of rumors have been filling my ears. I was unconvinced about these rumors of you being the Dragonborn until recently. Is that the truth, darling? Are you the Dragonborn? Even if you are not, it’s made for some interesting gossip. Although, despite that, you’ve offended me, darling. You haven’t penned a letter to me, your dearest friend, in such a long time. I had been hoping for more. Never mind; you have to come see me soon, and we can make up for lost time. Friends like us, with so much background, can’t turn their backs on each other. I miss that sweet face of yours. 

Yours faithfully until death,   
Astrid.” 

Ellayna caught herself smiling. The way Astrid had phrased things did not surprise her. They had been close friends since they were young girls. Astrid was one of the few people who knew the passed Ellayna was rather keep buried. Not that she would ever tell; those secrets would go with Astrid to her grave. 

Farkas ghosted to the door, swaying slightly. There was an infectious smile still on his lips and had clearly left the joys just to find her. “You got a letter, puppy?” He asked. It was a frank question rather than him trying to get a secret or a story out of her. 

“I did,” she nodded, refolding it. “From a friend. She’s just making sure this Dragonborn is still alive.” Sort of a lie, but at least not entirely. 

Nodding, he sauntered to sit beside her on her pallet. He seemed more sober than she initially thought. “Are you not going back up?” 

“You know that tiredness from before? Hit me like a bloody brick wall.” 

“I could stay down here, pup, talk to you instead.” 

“And if you stay too long, you know what Vilkas will be teasing you about next.” 

He watched her, not saying anything. 

“Go!” She laughed and pushed his arm. Her little strength did little to move him. “Go and have my joy for me!” 

“Only if you’re sure.” 

“Yes, Farkas, I don’t know how you could need much more convincing,” she tried not to grin as she leaned back against the wall. When he kept looking at her instead of moving, she lifted her leg and gave him a push on the shoulder with her foot. “Move, you big wolf.” 

Smiling, he looked away and stood, leaving without a goodnight as usual. After a moment of wild indecision, Ellayna threw herself off the bed. Farkas turned back to see what she was doing, as he did that, she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. Without a word she backed back, then returned to her bed. He was holding his cheek as he left.


	6. In Solitude

Ellayna felt genuinely sorry for her new tutors. She was not the most willing, nor the most adept student. Aela seemed to thrive on a challenge and no matter how frustrated she became she absolutely refused to abandon Ellayna. There must have been some sort of skill she spotted in Ellayna’s archery for that is what they practiced in the most. There was a dull, unappealing repetitiveness to shooting arrows at a target all day. It made Ellayna dread walking out into the training yard in the mornings. 

There was very little that was eventful for an entire week. Kodlak seemed to withdrawn more and more, preferring to speak to individuals if he spoke at all. Skjor seemed to be gone every night; Ellayna usually heard him sneaking out, his weight because of solid muscle making even light steps thud. Farkas left for two days with Vilkas on a job. Athis was adamant on glowering or staring at Ellayna –it was getting to the point where she felt as though she should say something about it yet saw there was no way of doing that. 

“Stop overthinking,” Aela barked when Ellayna paused briefly to consider her thoughts. Briefly may not have been the right word as exactly how long she had been staring at her poor straw stuffed dummy for a target was a mystery. 

“I was thinking about the angle of the bow,” she lied instantly, mentally rebuking herself afterward. Although the annoying thing about longbows was the tilt required to make the arrow stay notched. 

“I doubt it. Shoot the target or don’t bother training at all.” 

Ellayna released her arrow and hit just inside the inner circle. “See? No need to fret. I’m improving.” 

“Only because the target is stationary.” 

“That’s a little cynical, Aela.” 

“It’s truth. Now if we painted targets on someone, that could help,” she began to grin. “I wonder how fast ice-brain can run.” 

Ellayna suppressed a laugh. “I wouldn’t put it passed him to offer.” 

Aela was shaking her head as she took the bow from Ellayna. “I suppose that’s enough for today, but tomorrow,” she jabbed a thick finger at Ellayna’s upper chest. “Tomorrow you’re coming hunting with me. Time for you to hit something moving.” 

“I hit a frostbite spider in Dustman’s Cairn,” she reminded Aela quietly. 

“I know. You don’t let me forget about it. And you used destruction magic,” there was a certain scowl that claimed Aela’s face as soon as she mentioned those words. “So it doesn’t count.” 

Shrugging, Ellayna stepped up to the balcony that connected the training yard to Jorrvaskr. The only Companion sitting there was Athis, who for once did not look at Ellayna. Instead his head was down and seemed utterly absorbed in honing the edge of one of his blades to be as sharp as he could possibly get it. Idly, Ellayna watched him as she called back to where Aela presumably still was at the weapons rack. “Can I invite Farkas hunting?” 

“As long as he doesn’t get in the way.” 

Ellayna couldn’t promise that, so instead didn’t answer as she went inside the mead hall. Being about midmorning, the long tables were empty; the Companions preferred getting everything they could ready before a hearty midday meal. Down the far end of the hall, sitting at the benches, were people but she could not make out who they were by mumbled voices alone or by the vague tops of their heads. Ellayna decided against investigating and head down into the sleeping quarters instead. There she took the leather wrist-guard and finger guards off, having needed them for archery practice, and stored them beneath her bed pallet. Flexing her left wrist and right fingers, she considered what to do now. Usually Aela did not release her until after lunch. What Ellayna was to do with her sudden extra time she briefly had no clue. Then she recalled a certain nord they had been talking about before and trotted about of the shared chambers eagerly. 

Oddly enough, Farkas was standing at the end of the corridor, just after where the steps leading up to Jorrvaskr were. He was facing away, leaning over a table with his hands on the table and a book in front of him. Ellayna did not think that through as she should have. He was wearing fabric clothes, breeches and a tunic, instead of armor. That gave her an idea. She tried to give him a fright by grabbing his waist, trying to jolt him. He did not react as she expected and instead froze, still leaning over the table. “You’re no fun,” she grumbled, keeping her hands there as he rose. He was not quite as tall as Farkas. Since he was leaning over, she had seen his shoulders were ever so slightly narrower. His hair was slightly shorter, less ragged. As he grimly turned to face Ellayna, it was not Farkas. Vilkas. It was Vilkas. She had done that to Vilkas. Ellayna pulled her hands away, her mouth dropping open and her eyes widening. Her fingers went to her mouth as though they were forcing her to say something. Instead the two just stood there, staring at each other. Finally, Ellayna managed a whisper of, “Wrong twin,” then bolted. She came too close to running into the wall as she shot up the steps into the mead hall. 

By the time she had gotten upstairs and far enough from the sleeping quarters to not be heard, she was laughing hysterically. At the opposite end of Jorrvaskr, sitting on the benches with Ria and Torvar and now Aela, was Farkas. He too was not wearing armor and Ellayna felt mildly better for mistaking them. Seeming as she had seen neither of them today before then, she was consoling herself that it was not her fault by the time she got to them. Also by that time, everyone was looking at her with puzzled expressions. Save for Farkas, who was smiling. He was even chuckling when Ellayna threw herself down to sit sideways on the bench beside him. “Puppy?” He asked merrily. “Are you alright?” 

For a moment she composed herself, then melted back into laughter and lent forward, briefly resting her forehead against his bristly cheek. Once she lifted her head back up, she sniffled and wiped her watery eyes, still laughing a little. “I mistook Vilkas for you.” 

Farkas snorted. “How?” 

“What do you mean ‘how’? You’re twins.” 

“I suppose,” he was grinning. “What exactly did you do?” 

“Some things are better left unspoken, Farkas.” 

He didn’t press her for answers. For a good while they sat and talked quietly, while the rest of the group sitting nearby left them to it. Occasionally they glanced and snickered, but Farkas seemed entirely unaware. At one stage, Ellayna dimly took notice of Athis going down into the barracks then swiftly coming out again, immediately leaving to go outside again. 

They were interrupted at midday. Most of the absent Companions began to file into Jorrvaskr, hungry and searching for food. Tilma could be heard berating them for being like scavenging wolves. Vilkas ghosted out of the barracks and toward Ellayna and Farkas, who were yet to move from the bench. Rigid and awkward, Vilkas held out a worn one-handed sword to Ellayna. “Since you only had half a morning’s training, Dragonborn, you can take my sword up to Eorlund for sharpening.” 

Ellayna took it uncertainly and as soon as she did Vilkas turned on his heel and left them. 

“You won’t be long, pup,” Farkas shrugged, then paused. “What did you do to him?” 

Shaking her head, Ellayna left immediately. Why Vilkas had chosen that moment to give her the strange task she had no clue. She took it up to the Skyforge where the giant stone eagle overlooked Eorlund going about his every day work. Eorlund himself sat at his grindstone, working away at a miserably blunt greatsword. “Just leave it over there,” was Eorlund’s answer when Ellayna told him what she had brought. He had not even bothered to glance at her. ‘Over there’ was a very vague command and she rest it against a sword bench and left the blacksmith without words of goodbye. 

Walking down the slope, she noticed Athis before she reached the bottom of the tilt and stood on the level stone. The mer lent against Jorrvaskr’s wooden planks, red eyes studying her intently. Ellayna tried to ignore it and walk passed but staggered at his words. “I know who you are,” he informed her calmly. 

She paused, concealing her rising panic. “I am the Dragonborn. That’s not exactly a secret, Athis.” 

“But who you were before you were the Dragonborn is, isn’t it? You didn’t think someone here would recognize you.” 

It became too clear why Athis had chosen that moment. Nobody was in the training yard to witness what was happening. Eorlund up in the Skyforge could not see what was happening from the forge itself, unless he purposely looked over the side of the rock-face. Ellayna tried to walk passed again but this time Athis strode to block her path. Since her head scarcely came up to his shoulder, she felt tiny before him and underneath his gaze. 

“Have you told anyone else?” Athis demanded. When she gave no acknowledgement of his words and kept her head bowed, he grew angry. He pulled the dagger from his belt he had been sharpening earlier. “I saw you once, in Solitude,” he placed the end of the dagger just under her chin, forcing her to look up. “It took me a while to realize where I’d seen your face. You were on the arm of General Tullius, in a brothel.” 

She spat in his face and smiled with grim satisfaction as it hit his cheek. Athis wiped it away with his free hand, clenching his jaw with irritation. 

“There’s no lying your way out of this. I suggest you leave Jorrvaskr, leave the Companions and leave Whiterun,” Athis pulled his dagger away, smiling with ugly disgust. “We wouldn’t want Farkas getting hurt by a whore, would we?” 

Ellayna watched him walk away. Even when she was alone and Athis was gone from her sights, she had an overwhelming urge to flee. To run from Jorrvaskr and from her duties as Ulfric’s Dovahkiin, just to leave and never look back. Perhaps she could even leave Skyrim, go south to Cyrodiil to make a living somewhere there, away from people who would know her face and know who she was. Who she is. Ellayna simply stood there for a long time, all of these possibilities and all of these outcomes running through her head. She could see a hundred options and a thousand options but she could not bring herself to move. She wondered what her life would be like if her history came back for spiteful vengeance.

It was only when Farkas appeared from around the corner that she came back around to herself. He seemed worried. “Pup? Where have you been?” 

She stood there, swaying slightly. Then she glanced around, seeing the area around her was darkening. “I’ve been here,” she told him softly. Reaching up to her eyes, she expected to find tears that needed drying. But her face was bone dry.


	7. Hunting Mishap

The ceiling was dark, so much so that she could barely make out the spiraling carvings on the in the wood of Jorrvaskr. She stared at these, trying to make them out through the gloom to distract herself. The heavy breathing of everyone else in the whelps’ barracks assured her they were all asleep but she gained no comfort from it. Not far from her Athis slept. He knew what she was, who she had been before that wretched dragon attacked the watchtower. It would be so easy for him to go to anyone within the Companions and reveal all. He knew about General Tullius. To what extent exactly, she could not know; but any knowledge was bad enough. She wondered if who he had already told. Kodlak? Vilkas? Skjor? Ellayna wanted to let out a sob when she thought what would happen if Athis told Farkas. She held her cry in, feeling her nose burn and her eyes water. Ulfric, despite his arrogance and controlling nature, had given Ellayna a second chance. She was Dragonborn. This had been her opening to escape the past; now she felt as if the mere thought of that past being discovered would drown her. 

She had no sense of time and did not know how long it was until morning when she rose from her pallet. Like the last time she had snuck from the barracks, she moved soundlessly with ease. When she was clear of the rooms, she simply stood for a moment. She entertained the thought of going to Farkas and telling him she could not sleep. Then the thought of telling him everything crossed her mind. She nearly laughed aloud. What would he say? If he did not find her disgusting, he would take pity on her. Pity was nearly as awful as disgust. 

Before she knew it she was walking toward the Circle’s separate rooms. She stopped herself, nearly swearing at her own foolishness. Not knowing what to do with herself, she leaned against one of the walls. Soon she slid down it and buried her face in her knees as she brought them to her chest. 

It was not until she hear voices that she looked up. She must have fallen asleep, for there were multiple people standing around her. Opposite her Aela and Kodlak stood together, talking softly but with scowls creasing their brows. Beside Ellayna Farkas kneeled, his hand on her shoulder. He was watching Kodlak and Aela, only realizing Ellayna had lifted her head when he gazed back at her. “Are you alright, puppy?” He asked, the nickname making her smile despite everything. His hand moved to her cheek and his concern touched her. 

As always, her immediate reaction was to lie. “I had a nightmare.” 

“We’re supposed to be hunting this morning,” Aela reminded her, trying her utmost to keep her voice gentle. “That might clear your head.” 

Kodlak smiled and added, “And if not, it will distract you.” 

Ellayna looked to Farkas, seeing him smile and give the tiniest of nods. Then Ellayna nodded in response to the others, feeling very much like getting away from Jorrvaskr was what she needed. Farkas helped her to her feet, and only then did she noticed Vilkas glaring from around the corner. He was scowling, leaning against the wall and peering around it. Farkas seemed to notice when Ellayna did, following her line of sight. He went to his brother, leaving Ellayna standing before Aela and Kodlak on her own. 

“Get your things and dress,” Aela ordered. Kodlak was still smiling, as though he was forcing it to his lips. Did he know already? Had Athis told him, and this was the pity he felt shining to the surface? Ellayna hurriedly turned away, giving one last look at Farkas before she did so. He was standing closely in front of Vilkas, the two speaking in hushed tones, and Vilkas’ hand was clasped on Farkas’ forearm. Vilkas was far harsher in what he said than Farkas, judging by their tones. Ellayna, despite her curiosity, went back to the barracks. Quite as a mouse, seeming as everyone still appeared to be sleeping, she slipped inside. There she changed into the leathers Aela had given her and strapped on her wrist- and finger-guards. After rushing to lace up her boots, she left the barracks before anyone awoke. 

It was outside Jorrvaskr, in the training courtyard, where she collected her longbow and attached a quiver half full of arrows to her back. She understood why no one else had been awake; it was scarcely dawn, the faint light in the eastern sky from where the sun would soon rise was just a golden smudge against the dark grey. Soon Aela and Farkas emerged from Jorrvaskr, both ready and confident. Ellayna felt smaller beside them –smaller than her height usually made her feel. 

They went all of the way through Whiterun to enter the plains of the Whiterun hold. Then they went north-west, aiming for the tree-line behind Whiterun. When the city and palace behind them were merely uneven shapes on the horizon and there was nothing else around them save trees, boulders and shadowy flowers, Aela halted. She had led all of the way out there, through the skies gaining light. Despite that fact that the sun was now up and feebly trying to warm them, Ellayna still shivered and her feet crunched frost. 

“You can change if you want,” Aela spoke over Ellayna to Farkas. “I doubt you’ll be seen here.” 

Farkas considered it while Ellayna was confused. Suddenly she clicked, “Oh, the werewolf thing.” 

Aela gave a snort. “You say it like it isn’t a blessing.” 

“I wouldn’t call it a blessing, but nor would I call it a curse. Frankly, I would prefer to be a werewolf rather than a Dragonborn.” 

“Good. For a moment there I thought I’d have to educate you.” 

Sheepishly, Farkas was moving away. Simply he sat down on the grass with his back to them and looked as though he was studying the plains stretching south of them. Then his shoulders began expanding and Ellayna heard the first of the awful crackling sounds his bones made while reshaping. She turned away, wrinkling her nose as she winced. Aela took a dry amusement in this. “Do you not think the changes are beautiful?” 

“You can think whatever you want about beauty, that’s nothing for me to comment on. But whatever your views, that crackling of bone is disgusting.” 

There was a churning sound and a snap from behind them and Ellayna made a face. She knew that sound from Dustman’s Cairn; Farkas’ skull was changing shape. 

Then there was a padding of feet and the sound of earth thudding beneath a heavy weight. There was a pause then the distinct sound of canine keening. Aela smiled fondly at the werewolf and Ellayna slowly turned to face him. Farkas stood on his two hind legs, his back hunched and his huge head hanging low. The dark and dense fur that covered his body and his thick black claws on his toes dug into the frozen earth of the cold morning. Timidly he approached, his tail wagging slowly and his head down. This was a far cry from the ferocious beast that tore Silver-hand limb from limb and crushed their skulls in his maw. 

Ellayna held her hand out to him, resisting every tensed instinct in her body that told her to flee. It was much like meeting a large hound for the first time; both parties involved were unsure and neither wanted a fight. Farkas shoved a wet, huge nose into the palm of her hand and she felt him sniff. Then he let out a noise of what she could only call joy and moved closer. Originally, she had realized he was immense in size but had not taken in just how true this was. If he stretched out to his full height, her head would come to the bottom his ribcage. While he was as hunched as he was, the top of her head was still below his shoulder. 

“I’ve never seen anyone quite so calm in this circumstance,” Aela chuckled. “Are you not even a little bit frightened?” 

In truth, she was. But he seemed as though he had complete control over himself and Ellayna trusted him to stay that way. Instead of saying that, Ellayna spoke her other thoughts, “There’s nothing I could do to stop him if he wanted me dead, so why should I worry about something that I could not prevent if Farkas lost control?” 

Aela smirked and turned away, removing her bow from her back and hooking an arrow on it. She did not draw it to its length, instead sneaking forward into the trees. Farkas shifted the weight between his two feet, as though deciding something. Then he nudged Ellayna, giving her arm a lick. Then he did this to her cheek and scampered off after Aela. Ellayna was caught between being touched and appalled that her cheek was now smothered in Farkas’ saliva. Whipping it with a cringe, she soundlessly followed. 

Farkas did not stay with them for long. He bolted up the slope that, now they were in woodlands, they trekked on. Through the trees the occasional glimpse of that canine figure darting around. He did this while Aela and Ellayna shot at rabbits. It took Ellayna a while to realize he was digging up their burrows and forcing the rabbits out, driving them down the slope toward where the pair of archers waited. Ellayna herself shot two of the rabbit, missing the other five times. Three of these missed ones Aela picked off as soon as she knew Ellayna couldn’t. The last two rabbits were in luck that morning. 

The last rabbit ended a way that Ellayna was immediately horrified with. She thought to get it earlier than she had the others. What she did not immediately realize was that were was a great streak of a running werewolf behind said rabbit. She miscalculated with her aiming and realized with sickening horror where it would go as soon as she loosened the arrow. In her shock, she found herself unable to call out. It stuck Farkas and a high-pitched yelp of pain went through the woodlands. Immediately the werewolf stopped where he was, sliding for another few feet before he came to a complete halt. He turned away from them, his muzzle going to wherever the arrow was. 

Aela had no time to be furious with Ellayna. The Huntress reacted before the Dragonborn and rushed forward, yelling at the top of her lungs, “FARKAS! Do NOT break the shaft!” She was sprinting toward the wolf, Ellayna soon at her heels. 

The arrow had struck the meat of his heavily muscled thigh. He keened as they came closer, holding his wounded leg out at an odd angle. Laying on his wide, he stretched his head and torso out toward them. His whimpering grew lower as Aela was now kneeling by his side. With her nimble hands she examined everything she could through his thick fur. Blood coated her fingers and the surrounding fur on his leg soon. Luckily Farkas had not snapped the arrow but there were indents from his teeth in the wood. Farkas propped himself up slightly, leaning forward, to watch what Aela was doing. He did not snarl and howl like Ellayna was expecting, instead merely continuing with his worried whining. 

Ellayna knelt nearer Farkas’ head and shoulders. Affectionately, despite the fact she had accidently put an arrow in his thigh, he leaned against her. He seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that his weight was nearly crushing her. 

“Farkas, you’re going to have to change back,” Aela commanded, authority in her voice. She seemed very calm on the surface, but beneath there was a wolf seething with irritation. “I can’t see exactly what’s around the wound with all of this fur.” 

Now a growl came. The look Aela shot him silenced it. Farkas seemed to accept what must be done after that and he sat up to begin his change. Ellayna covered her mouth. Fur retracted and bones began that same horrible crackling. The morphing twisted strangely around the wound. Farkas shrunk in size and soon a man sat in place of the werewolf. He was cringing, jaw set hard against the pain. “I’m so sorry,” Ellayna murmured. The arrow would be seen far more easily now, sticking out of his thigh offensively. He was wearing old leathers and cotton clothing instead of his armor and Aela look her knife to his breeches, tearing that side open to examine the wound. 

“It hasn’t hit an artery or bone,” she confirmed. “But nor has it gone all of the way through. I’ll have to pull it out the way it went in. I have a healing potion with me, luckily,” with a sneer she added to Ellayna, “When we joked about using him as target practice, I did not think you would go through with it.” 

“Do it,” Farkas hoarsely insisted. Without discussing it, Ellayna came up behind him and knelt there. She put her arms around his shoulders and placed one hand over his eyes. Better that he not see. Better that he does not have to replay the image of an arrowhead being extracted from his flesh. 

There was nothing for Farkas to bite on. His jaw clenched instead and he bared is teeth through the agony. Low growls escaped his throat but that was nothing compared to the sounds anyone else would have made. When the bloody arrow was out and blood was pouring from his wound, Aela took the little red vial from her pouch. Hurried they forced him to drink it, watching with morbid curiosity as the flow of blood stopped and the skin rejoined. The flesh was still shiny pink and it was not entirely healed. 

Nobody voiced going back to Jorrvaskr but it was an unspoken decision. Aela and Ellayna carried the rabbits back to Whiterun, leaving Farkas to walk without burden. Ellayna expected to be yelled at and hit but no punishment came. 

The people of Whiterun animated the city now; yet were paid very little heed of on their way through to Jorrvaskr. Aela did not say anything as she entered through the double doors of the mead hall. Ellayna stopped just before that, staring at the engraved wooden doors. 

“It wasn’t your fault, puppy,” Farkas told her with a weary voice, stopping alongside her. “It was an accident.” 

“I shouldn’t be here,” she said blankly. “I don’t belong, I’ve proven that.” 

“I’m all fixed up now, look,” he showed her his thigh, desperately trying to get her to realize he took no offense. “You don’t have to leave, pup. I’m not angry.” 

Dryly, Ellayna smiled. “It is Jorrvaskr; you are Companions. You do not speak for everyone and I doubt everyone has the same affection for me as you do.” 

He watched helplessly as Ellayna went through the doors. Immediately all eyes were on her. Not all of the Companions were there; where Torvar was she did not know and as usual Kodlak was absent. But everyone else was there. Staring at her with accusing eyes. Athis looked more smug than anything, his smirk making her feel ill. 

“Is what Aela said truth?” Vilkas demanded from across the hall. His face was strained and red with anger. It was not Ellayna he spoke to but Farkas. When no one answered, Vilkas began crossing the hall. “Farkas, answer me.” 

“It was an accident,” he replied with a small voice, stepping down to meet his twin. Vilkas went straight passed him, despite Farkas’ attempt to stop him. If Farkas had guessed what Vilkas would do next, he would most definitely have tried harder to stop him. 

Ellayna simply stood there, watching Vilkas approach. “You bitch,” he spat. In the next moment Vilkas’ hands were around her throat and tightening their grip. Her panic hit her like he had punched her instead. Ellayna clawed at his hands and wrists weakly, dismayed. She spluttered and choked but his grip did not last long enough to do anything serious. He was ripped off by Farkas. Vilkas raged, his face contorted by his wrath. “You could have seriously hurt him! Go back to Ulfric, you whore!” 

Athis raised his voice. “I agree.” 

“ENOUGH,” Skjor commanded the attention of all in the mead hall. “Everyone, leave. Vilkas,” his upper lip curled up in a snarl. “Go calm down or you’ll have the tip of my boot somewhere you don’t want it.” 

Vilkas shrugged his brother off of him. Ellayna did not wait for everyone else to leave. She stepped passed the twins, not look at either of them. She put the skinned and gutted rabbits she carried to Aela and left the hall. Ellayna was determined; she would speak to Kodlak. She would ask to be release from any commitment to the Companions. If he denied her, she would simply leave anyway.


	8. Ghosts

Kodlak was watching from usual chair when Ellayna stormed into his chambers and forcefully slammed the door behind her. At the doorway, she stood for a long moment then turned to him, smiling. “I want to leave,” she stated, keeping her voice pleasant. “I want you to tell Ulfric that I am not suited to the Companions.” 

Kodlak leant back in his chair. He studied Ellayna with his silver eyes that were surrounded by webs of wrinkles, deciding what to do with her. “I am the Harbinger. Advice is what I give, not commands. I cannot make you stay.” 

“But Ulfric can.” 

“Aye, he can. I will give you my advice: you should stay here, with us Companions. You are suited to it, even if you do not think you are.” 

“How am I suited to it, old man?” She snapped venomously, stepping forward to stand over him. “I am not honorable. There hasn’t been an honorable or innocent bone in my body since I was thirteen years old. I lie to you all and yet you say I should stay?” 

None of this seemed to surprise him. Kodlak simply smiled at her. “If there was no honor in you, would you have come to me before leaving?” 

She was getting nowhere yelling. Instead she melted to her knees, tears coming to her eyes. “Vilkas tried to strangle me; Athis has threatened me,” her hands gripped his frail knee. “Please, allow me to leave this place, Kodlak.” 

He sighed. “You are an excellent actress. Perhaps you should have used this talent to gain money instead of selling yourself,” he took her hand in his, his lips still forming a kind smile. “Athis told me all, Ellayna. All. I am very sorry you had to sell your own body.” 

She yanked away from him and surged to her feet. Dizzy with the quickness of her actions and what he had said, she merely stood there for a moment. Dumbstruck, she then stepped away. In that moment, she hated Athis. Never had she hated anyone before; not truly. General Tullius she detested, but in a bitter, seething way. Not this hot, raging loathing she was suddenly swept up in. 

“You can be good again, Ellayna,” Kodlak promise. He sounded like one of those temping spirits children are told to be mindful of. “There is a way. And that is putting it all behind you. Moving on. Regain your honor by fighting alongside your shield-siblings and keeping your promise to this guild,” he rose to her feet, shaking slightly. “Redemption is in your grasp, my girl. Reach for it!” 

Ellayna could think of nothing to say. Redemption was something that never crossed her mind. To her, her sins and her wrongdoings and her demons would follow her forever. She turned away from Kodlak, leaving the old Companion standing there. Staggering out into the passageway, for a minute that dragged out forever she did not know what to do. She wanted a distraction. She wanted to think about something that was not herself. 

Kodlak closing his chamber’s door brought her back to herself. Then she heard voices. She followed the sound, straining to listen. Soon she was at Vilkas’ closed door, listening intently. She never claimed to be a good person and this certainly came under the many things she had done that she should not have. 

“I don’t care,” Vilkas hissed low. “The bitch hurt you!” 

“Don’t call her that, Vil,” Farkas whined. It made Ellayna’s chest ache that he defended her. “It was an accident. And that doesn’t mean you should hurt her back.” 

There was a pause. Ellayna breathlessly waited and then Vilkas spoke, “Can you not see what’s happening? She’s driving us apart because you’re sniffing after her.” 

“We’re brothers.” Another pause. “You are my brother. You’ll still be my brother even if–” 

“Don’t, Farkas.” There was a muffled sound and another excruciating pause. “It’s you and me against the world. It always has been and no matter what happens, it always will be.” 

Another pause then suddenly a yelp, “Don’t do that. It’s wrong, Vil.” Another pause. “Vilkas!” Farkas was horrified. Vilkas acknowledged it with a grunt. 

Ellayna pulled away from the door. She had a faint idea what was going on but would not draw conclusions until she knew more. Abruptly she wanted to laugh at all of this, at all of the strange things she managed to get herself caught up. She did not laugh as she moved away from the door: a second later she felt unbelievably weary. Her uncomfortable, hard bed pallet was the next place she went to and she tumbled into sleep instantly. 

-

She dreamt she was a ghost. Nothing but a transparent shell of herself, climbing up snowy steps. Those steps were numbering in the seven thousands. Something was pulling on her, forcing her up the steps against her will. They chanted “Dovahkiin” over and over in her head. They chanted and they pulled and she walked. Her entire dream was this. Nothing but Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin. She kept walking and walking. She passed a frost troll that did not even glance at her. When she came to the monastery of High Hrothgar, the chanting only increased. Then the beats of wings came, blasting her ghostly form into nothingness. 

That was not the first time she had that dream. The first time had been the night after she killed the dragon and the Greybeards called to her. The second had been the night before she arrived at Windhelm to speak with Ulfric. The third was that afternoon. She woke with gritty eyes and with her skin covered in sweat. Luckily she was alone in the whelps’ barracks and was thankful for it. Rising from her pallet, she stripped and pulled on her older clothes –her blouse and her layered skirts. Feeling mildly better, she left the barracks in search of food. 

No one but Tilma was in the mead hall. She bade Ellayna to sit and served her a decent portion of the stew that was simmering over the fireplace. “Made it from the rabbits you shot this morning,” Tilma smiled reassuringly. Ellayna ate in silence, watching Tilma dawdle around cleaning and organizing. The old woman was oddly strong and confident with her movements. 

Most of the afternoon was spent like that. Ellayna saw nothing of anyone but Tilma until late afternoon when Ria burst into Jorrvaskr. She saw Ellayna and for a sickening moment the Dragonborn thought she would cringe or turn away in disgust. Instead Ria began to grin widely. Suddenly she ran toward Ellayna and stopped right in front of her. “So,” Ria smirked, a glint of mischief in her brown eyes. “Farkas.” 

Ellayna had to laugh, despite everything that had happened today. “The man I shot with an arrow?” 

“The man who has completely forgiven you, yes. Do you know what’s happening tonight?” 

“Enlighten me, Ria.” 

“Well, when there’s a clear night and auroras are undoubtedly about to give us a glorious show, we have a tradition. If all of the Companions are in Jorrvaskr at the time, we go and watch them together.” 

“Touching.” 

Ria grinned, “We sit out there and drink as well,” she grabbed Ellayna’s arm excitedly. “Come on! You can sit with Farkas…” 

Ellayna new how to conceal a blush. “As long as there is mead involved.” Ria basically pulled her to her feet and hauled her outside. True to Ria’s word, the Companions were all sitting on the steps leading from the balcony down to the training yard. While Athis, Vilkas and the drunk Torvar had their usual sulking look on, the rest seemed amused. Aela and Skjor were sitting companionably close and mumbled something to each other before looking back at Ellayna. Njada reached over with her foot and cheekily kicked Farkas. The big nord was blushing again, his cheeks red even in the fading light. Ellayna joined him, now free of Ria’s iron grasp. She could not bring herself to look directly at Kodlak, who also sat out there also. With a moment of dismay she knew she had not pleaded with him to keep her secret safe; but she knew he would. Out of everyone she had ever met, he was one of the most honorable. 

Ellayna sighed as she sat beside Farkas, shooting a quick glare at everyone who snickered. “Is there some sort of joke I’m not privy to?” 

He slowly put his arm around her shoulders. “No joke, puppy.” 

“I’m so sorry about this morning,” she murmured, for once not lying at all. She wanted him to understand how guilty she felt. The only reply she received was him kissing the side of her head. 

And so the afternoon progressed into an evening of ale and auroras. The lights were stunning as they always were in Skyrim; pale blues and faint pinks lit up the skies, dotted with glowing stars and shrouded in moonlight. It was not until late evening when their peace was disturbed. First came the horrendous and bone-chilling roar. It was one Ellayna recognized too sharply. Then a silhouette appeared against the lights. Immense wings carried it through the air with eerie ease, its huge form clear and too close for comfort. Another roar came and what the beast was hit everyone like cold water. Dragon.


	9. Aalkos hi los bahlaan

Despite having killed a dragon once, Ellayna had no clue what do to. How do you kill a beast designed for destruction? How to you kill something covered in iron-hard scales that breaths either flame or frost? 

Everything that happened next was chaos. The Companions burst into action like a hive of agitated bees. Kodlak began to give orders; he was not heard, Skjor repeated them four times louder. The Circle and Ellayna were to drag their weapons and head for the Underforge. Ria was to immediately inform Jarl Balgruuf in case he did not already know. Athis was to rally Whiterun’s guards in case they needed to intervene. Torvar was no use to anyone in the state he was and Njada was to protect him from himself and stay in Jorrvaskr with the drunk. 

Ellayna only vaguely heard this. Her attention was fixated on the dragon. It made one swoop around Jorrvaskr, gliding in far too close to Dragonsreach for her comfort. Then with a great flap of its wings it slowed and lowered itself onto the ground. Now it was concealed behind the city’s walls, terrorizing whatever was on the other side to Jorrvaskr. The trumpets and roars the beast gave were chilling. 

Someone thrust a bow into Ellayna’s grasp and attached a quiver of arrows to her back. She became dumbly aware that she was wearing entirely the wrong clothing for any sort of fighting. Long skirts would not get her far if she needed to run. “Puppy,” Farkas spoke low and comforting as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Kodlak said you were to come with us.” 

She nodded mutely. As he went to lead her that way, she took his hand and was more than happy to let him pull her along. She was terrified. If Kodlak said she was to go with them, it certainly meant they expected her to be able to kill the monster. 

All of the other Companions seemed to have their wits about them, at least. Ellayna was whisked to the Underforge, the entrance more-or-less concealed by making it blend into the rock face below the Skyforge. Being ushered inside, they were engulfed by darkness. One pitiful oil lantern was all that lit the stone chamber; as their eyes adjusted, it became adequate. Ellayna did not have time to see anything other than the huge stone bowl in the middle of the chamber which she very nearly collided with. Aela and Skjor led the way through the Underforge, into a passageway that led them to a ledge. A small portion of the landscape beyond the Underforge, clearly outside of the city’s walls, could be seen. But the dragon could not be. 

“We will fight until the beast kills us,” Aela commanded. “If that’s what it takes to be rid of the threat to Whiterun, we will do it.” 

“We will keep our honor, knowing we have died justly and fighting with steel in our hands,” Skjor was grinning but it was without humor. Even the bravest of men had to put on a façade to encourage their comrades sometimes. 

Any sense of hope was dashed by the sudden roar. It was a horrible shriek. Ice crashed down onto the exit from the Underforge, freezing the ground and grass solid. Ellayna had leapt away from Farkas in fright. The Circle had all drawn their weapons immediately. Kodlak was instructing them to wait, trying to develop more confidence than Skjor had. Distracted, Ellayna did not listen. She stepped to the very edge. It was a sheer drop to the compact dirt below. There were no steps, only wooden boxes on one side and a barrel on the other. Perhaps someone as tall and strong as Farkas could haul themselves up if he stood on one of the boxes, but Ellayna had no idea how she would get back up into the Underforge. 

There were no warning. A hand was on her back and then she was falling forward. It was a petrifyingly slow moment. Her heart stopped in her chest and her lungs felt as though they were clamped closed, forbidding her to breathe. After what felt like an eternity, she slammed into the ground. Time sped up again. Pain shot through her shoulder and her face struck the ground. Stunned, she could do nothing. Something hot and thick leaked from her burning nose. Opening her eyes, she only saw herself bleeding onto the dirt. 

Farkas bellowed his brother’s name. Ellayna slowly looked back and up at the Circle members. Vilkas was stepping away from the ledge, looking smug regardless of his twin’s horror. “Pup,” Farkas knelt on the stone by the edge and by where the boxes sat underneath. He reached down as far as he could with one hand, offering it to her. “Come back up,” he tried to persuade her. “Puppy, it’s not safe by yourself.” 

Ellayna’s eyes only barely flickered to Kodlak. Vaguely, Kodlak mouthed, “Redemption”. She did not think after that moment. 

She scrambled for her bow. Aela swore and Farkas began to panic, “You’re hurt. Please, pup.” 

“She’s the Dragonborn,” Vilkas sneered. “I’m sure she can take care of herself.” 

Wiping the blood away from her chin, mouth and under her nose, Ellayna stood and slunk from the Underforge. The bridge of her nose throbbed and she could not breathe through it. Her shoulder ached from the impact. Neither of those things stopped her. Kodlak was right. She needed to do this. 

She crept out into the night. The dragon was a vivid sight even in the dark. The beast was slate grey in the moonlight, its wings half folded against its back. It was walking almost awkwardly on the ground, striding toward a huge farm house. The inhabitants were fleeing inside but the livestock were not so lucky. Craning its head on its long neck, the dragon swooped up a cattle beast and threw it and its own head back. The cow was caught between the dragon’s maw and gulped down without being chewed. 

Ellayna needed to get its attention. She needed to draw it away from the citizens. Yet she stayed in place, nicely hidden. Every muscle in her body felt as hard as the ground she had fallen on and refused to move. When it came down to it, she was a coward. She knew this. She was a liar but she was not a liar to herself. That huge frost breathing beast could kill her with one snap of its jaws or one swoop of its thick tail. 

“Ellayna!” Skjor snapped, grabbing her arm. He and Aela were down on the ground. In another moment Farkas was and Vilkas was following. Kodlak watched over them, clutching at his chest painfully. Skjor gained her attention again by giving her a brash push back toward the Underforge. “Go. We can handle this, you can’t.” 

It was strange thing, being told you can’t do something. Somehow it was the best motivation to do exactly the opposite of what the person was telling you. Limitations can bring out the best in people. “No, wait!” She yelped, darting passed him and out into the open, slipping from his grasp with expertise when he tried to stop her. “Get the people in the farm houses to safety.” She began to run –more like trot because of her skirts– down the slope that led to the road. 

She did not look back to see if they complied. As she ran, she hooked on an arrow onto her bowstring and let it loose. It did little more than bounce off the thickest part of the dragon’s hide, but it seemed to make the dragon notice her. “Oi, you ugly bastard!” She yelled at the top of her lungs. The dragon’s head swung around. “Don’t you think you should be fighting someone with a voice like yours?” 

“Hi krilon tinvaak wah zey, pus dovah?” **(1)** The dragon demanded, its jaw moving ever so slightly to form the words. Cold tremors ran up Ellayna’s spine, those words recognizable but unknown to her. Her comprehension of it was just beyond her grasp. 

“I have no idea what you’re saying, you son of a bitch,” she admitted, holding her arms wide. She began to back away when the frost dragon swung the rest of its body around and stepped forward. “But you look like you’re troubling those people. Eating cows isn’t exactly a nice thing to do. How about we sort that out, just between the two of us?” 

“Fahvos dreh hi lorot Zu'u fen tinvaak wah hi? Hi faazrot zey. Hin nuvah faazrot zey.” **(2)** Its pace increased, its wings stretching out more. 

Ellayna was now nearly running backward. “What? Are you too afraid to let me understand your words? Are you too afraid to chase me quicker, for fear I may have an advantage? Are you afraid, oh ugly dragon, of a petty little Dovahkiin?!” 

“Dir, Dovahkiin. Hi los ni kovon wah tinvaak un rot nuv zaan un zaan!” **(3)**

Frost came hurtling down as soon as the dragon opened its huge jaws. Ellayna was chilled to the bone instantly. She was gambling, now. She had been doing so with her words and now she placed her life on the line using only the assumption that she was smarter than this hulking dragon. Most of her life had been based on that exact assumption. 

She pretended to be frozen. It was difficult to stay still. Violent trembling took ahold of her body, both from the bitter cold and from her terror. It took every part of her willpower not to look up from where her head was bowed. Instead she relied on her sense; her hearing, her smell. The cold, bitter smell of the beast increased as it came closer. To distract herself, she tried to picture the dragon’s scaly face in her mind. She tried to think exactly where the eyes were. 

Instinct told her when it was time. In the palm of her spare hand, she let heat writhe and gather there. Then she hurtled herself up and threw the ball of flame in the beast’s eye. The shriek that came from it was tormented and horrified. In a way, Ellayna was glad Farkas had basically forced her to deal with the frostbite spiders in Dustman’s Cairn, or she would never have had that idea. 

Suddenly she was confident. Again she took her bow and hooked on an arrow. Good aim was not required when a creature so immense was so close. She managed to get two arrows protruding from its chest before the enraged dragon took a swipe at her with its clawed hand. There was only one time before then she had shouted. When the words came from her mouth and forced the dragon’s arm back, she was completely taken by surprise. Ellayna swore colourfully, tripping over her skirts as she tried to retreat. There was a dull thud as she fell on her ass. The dragon took a moment to recover but was relentless. 

There was only one thing Ellayna knew how to do then. She put her hands together and allowed her magic to flow. Perhaps it was luck that this was a frost dragon and not a flame one, because who knows whether the same thing would have worked on a fire-breather. Ellayna drowned the beast in flame until its hulking body collapsed onto the dirt, grass and cobblestones. As its flesh began to dissolve, there was a slight murmur from the monster. “Aalkos hi los bahlaan, pus dovah…” **(4)** Ellayna would not know what it meant for a long time. 

The draining of her magic left her dizzy and confused. She simply sat there, hands burning. Her ass hurt from falling, her shoulder still pained her, her nose was broken. Her hands and forearms felt scorched. But she laughed. She laughed because she had trusted Kodlak’s one word and this was where it had gotten her. She laughed through the tears in her eyes. 

It was only after the blue spirit of the dragon had disappeared from around her that the Companions approached. Not just the Companions; they were her fellow Companions. 

“Where are you hurt, pup?” Farkas knelt beside her, taking her wet face in his hands. His gaze was on her bridge of her nose and she wondered how bad it actually was. 

“Everywhere,” she laughed. “But I’m not crying because of that.” In her giddiness, she leaned forward and kissed his lips. The agony in her nose forced her to pull away but she was still grinning. So was Farkas now. 

“What is your problem?” Skjor growled testily from nearby. He and a furious Aela confronted Vilkas, who now looked more like a red-handed criminal than a Companion. “You could have gotten her killed and her death would have been as much on the dragon’s head as it would have been on yours.” 

Vilkas looked passed them, passed Farkas, and directly at Ellayna. He held her gaze. “Ask Athis.” It took only those words to make her heart sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> (1) = “You dare talk to me, small dragon?”   
> (2) = “Why do you think I will talk to you? You insult me. Your presence insult[s] me.”  
> (3) = “Die, Dragonborn. You are not fit to talk our word[s] nor shout our shout[s]!”  
> (4) = “Maybe you are worthy, small dragon…”


	10. Love Bites and Liars

The first thing Ellayna wished to do when she woke was immediately go back to sleep. Sleeping away agony was the only thing she wished to do. Unfortunately there was no placed she could get comfortable. A web of pain had spread itself across her shoulder blade and shoulder where ever she lay. It was less painful on her stomach, but then she encountered the issue of her nose. No pressure could be applied to it without her swearing in agony. The nose was right where you lived and that sort of pain was the worst. 

Every time she had sworn, she could hear a chuckle from behind her. Eventually she persuaded her sleepy mind that she needed to sit up and did so grudgingly. She only paused upon realizing that she was not in her own bed. These were not her blankets, this bed pallet was mildly more comfortable than her own, and she certainly did not normally smell like a certain nord. She glanced around in the chambers, finding Farkas sitting alone on the floor. Between his crossed legs rested a breastplate; he was replacing the leather of the worn buckles. Ellayna watched him for a moment, then cleared her throat. He looked up, startled, then smiled. “You’re awake, puppy.” 

She gestured at the bed pallet. “Explain?” A wicked grin set across her lips. “And if you say we did something that involves this bed, I will be sorely pissed that I’ve forgotten it.” 

Farkas blushed deep red. “We didn’t do anything, puppy. I tried to help you up after the dragon encounter and you passed out. I had to carry you back here,” he shuffled awkwardly. “I didn’t want you to be sleeping with the others after Vilkas suggested something about Athis. What did he mean, pup?” 

Ellayna feigned ignorance. “I don’t know any more than you do about that. Now,” she turned away from him and unbuttoned her blouse. It was difficult; somehow her overuse of destruction magic had burned her hands. She pulled her blouse down to expose her injured shoulder only. “How bad is it?” 

There was a hissed intake of breath. Farkas joined her on the bed, his warm hands giving a tender prod at her injury. “It’s going purple,” he answered and she did not need to look at him to know he cringed. “It’s a damned good thing we’ve got healing potions, puppy.” 

She had truthfully forgotten about those. “Thank Talos, I can’t sleep like this.” When she was a child, she never had those to heal her injuries. Sometimes even as an adult of twenty four years she still forgot. 

He had a chuckle to himself at that as he moved away again. He returned as Ellayna was turning to him, holding the little red vial out to her. Taking it, Ellayna grimaced as she removed the cap and downed it. She groaned in disgust as the bitter liquid slipped down her throat, hitting the back of her tongue. Then she made faces and squirmed as her injuries healed. Bleeding beneath skin stopped. Bone molded itself back together. Charred skin stretching and repaired. She watched in horror, her body almost completely mended after a minute. She still felt the vague ache of where the agony used to be, but she knew this was only her mind playing tricks on her. 

“Aela brought you in fresh clothes this morning,” Farkas nodded at the bar covered with things like tankards, mead bottles and oddly enough various pretty bird feathers. Amongst it was a pile of crudely folded clothes. 

Ellayna rose to her feet, swaying slightly with dizziness. An instant later she was striding toward the clothes. She would have changed then and there if it wasn’t for the fact she caught a reflection of herself in one of the tankards. She made a horrified sound, grabbing at the metal cup and staring at herself. “My face,” she murmured. “My beautiful face.” 

“Pup?” Farkas was entirely lost. 

Although messy, her hair was the same. Copper in colour, sitting on her shoulders in fat curls. Her heart shaped jaw was the same. But below her amber eyes, there was a bump. At the bridge of her nose, there was an ugly bump where it had been broken. She prodded at it, hoping she was seeing things. But she felt it beneath her fingertips. It was definitely there. 

Farkas was beside her now, trying not to smile. “It’s the same beautiful face,” he consoled her. “Just a beautiful face with a bump.” 

“You’re not helping.” 

Now he was laughing, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. 

The clothes Aela had brought was simply a blouse with leggings. Farkas awkwardly moved away as Ellayna began undressing. The clothes she wore were covered with dust and her sleeves were covered with ash. Disdainfully she dropped them to the ground, glad to be free of them. She glanced back at Farkas, who was very red and sitting on the end of his bed, trying politely not to look her way. She situated herself at a very teasing angle and giggled to herself as she began dressing. She used to tease men for a living; now she actually felt joy doing it for this one man. How things can change. 

Half way through dressing, the door of the chamber opened. Vilkas burst through, his jaw set hard. He shot a nasty but fleeting glare at the topless Ellayna but bypassed her and made his way immediately to Farkas. 

“What’s she still doing here?” Vilkas demanded, voice low. Watching out of the corner of her eye, Ellayna could see how close he stood to Farkas, how he reached toward his brother constantly to touch his arm. 

“She just woke,” Farkas told him quietly. “You’re not being very nice, Vil.” 

Vilkas weighed his next words, conscious that Ellayna could hear them. He almost sounded jealous. “You’re too nice.” 

“Why shouldn’t I be?” 

“Because–” Vilkas stopped himself. Ellayna’s heart was in her throat; she did not want Farkas to know. She did not want Vilkas to spill the secret to Farkas and ruin everything. What would Farkas say if he knew? Ellayna didn’t want his pity. Vilkas sighed deeply. “We’ll talk later.” 

Ellayna, finished dressing, turned to the pair and stepped forward just as Vilkas was stepping away. Farkas caught his arm and used the other hand to pull down the collar of Vilkas’ tunic, horrified. “What is that?” He pointed to a red mark on the skin of just below his collar bone. Ellayna had seen enough love bites in her life to know one immediately. Angrily Vilkas pulled away, repeating “we’ll talk later” then stormed from the chamber, all but slamming the door behind him. 

“What, have you never seen a hickey?” Ellayna nudged Farkas playfully with her elbow, hoping to lighten the mood. 

“Of course, pup. I just…” Farkas was staring at the door, bewildered. 

Ellayna saw her opportunity to snoop and took it. “Is Vilkas not allowed a lover?” 

“He is. It’s just that he usually tells me, and I thought–” He bit down on his lip.  
It did not take her more than a moment to put two and two together. “He’s been with Athis, hasn’t he? Probably still is.” 

Farkas wasn’t sure what to make of it. “There’s nothing wrong with it, puppy,” he defended his brother. 

“No, there isn’t,” she smiled, taking his face between her two hands. “But it made sense; neither of them are fond of me.” Things were beginning to make sense, at least. 

A short silence fell. Something else was going through Farkas’ mind, she could tell, but was uncertain of what it was. She didn’t have enough to draw a conclusion on that one. Instead she began to grin and gently lowered herself onto Farkas’ lap, hands sliding down to his shoulders. “I remember something that did happen last night,” she gave him a brief peck on the lips. “You kissed me.” 

“Puppy, I think you kissed me.” 

“Either way, same outcome. And please, you fully wanted me to.” 

“I can’t remember what exactly was going through my head, pup,” he laughed out of relief. “I was just glad to see you alive.” That time he did kiss her. It was deepening as the chamber door was opened and there was the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat. They pulled away at the same time, giggly as they looked back at Aela. She stood, the brass door knob still in her hand, one eyebrow raised. 

All she said was, “Kodlak wants to see you, Ellayna.” Then she closed the door as she took her leave, shaking her head. 

“It looks like, Farkas, we’re fated to be constantly interrupted,” Ellayna was grinning as she turned back to him. 

“I hope not.” 

“It could lead to some interesting explanations if it does,” she laughed at his blush. “I love that you blush like that.” 

He grunted as his reply and his forehead fell against her shoulder. They sat there for a moment, arms around the other person. Finally Farkas mumbled, “You can’t keep Kodlak waiting.” 

“I can if I try.” 

“Pup.” 

She sighed, kissing his temple then reluctantly pulling away. She couldn’t keep the smile from her lips as she left his chamber and entered Kodlak’s without knocking. The grey haired old harbinger sat where he usually did, bent over his little table and scrawling letters and words onto a piece of yellowing paper. He did not look up. “You are Dragonborn.” It was a simple, quite statement; one that momentarily threw Ellayna. 

“Did you have doubts that I am?” 

“No, but it is nice to be dead certain,” now he looked up. “Your cheeks are red.” 

“Farkas is a good kisser.” 

He laughed, more heartily than she expected. “I will take your word for it,” he gestured to the piece of paper. “Right now I am penning a letter to Ulfric. You see, Ellayna, he knows of the Circle’s curse. Skjor has been pushing for you to become one of us.” 

“There are only five members in the Circle at any given point,” she pointed out carefully. Her grin was gone. 

“I am an old man. In truth, I am older than I appear. I have been ailing for some time and the beast blood has never helped.” 

“Skjor will become the Harbinger in the event of your death and I will replace Skjor.” 

“Aye. It is recently that I’ve begun to see the beast blood for what it is; a curse. But you, Ellayna, could prosper from it. As long as you acknowledge the risks and know that it will probably be a lifelong outcome, you can make the decision for yourself.” Ellayna did not reply. When she kept up her silence, Kodlak sighed and continued. “Being a part of a pack will help you. You will probably open up to your shield siblings –and whatever Farkas will be to you– and you may even correct your habit of lying.” 

“I’m not a liar,” she immediately regretted her words, pursing her lips. She was a liar and a coward and she knew it, but it was automatic reaction to both lie and defend herself. 

“I do not judge you for anything you are and anything you were. Ellayna, with your background, you could be a much worse person.” 

“And how much do you actually know of my background, Kodlak?” She asked, unable to keep the spite from her tone. 

“I know what Athis told me. I will speak frankly; you were a prostitute in Solitude. Once I discovered that, I made inquiries.” 

“So more people know?” She snapped, voice low to save being overheard and to stop it from breaking. “More people know that the heroic Dovahkiin used to be nothing but a whore?” 

“I am many things and a fool is not one of them. I did my investigating subtly. I found out why you were doing to be executed at Helgen, and as far as I can tell, General Tullius has no clue that you are the Dragonborn.” 

Ellayna gritted her teeth, managing a nod. 

“I am not asking you to choose whether or not you will take the beast blood yet,” Kodlak sat back in his chair. “At the moment, I am penning the idea of it to Ulfric. It will make you stronger but I can assure you, he will want no surprises of this sort from you. You will not have to decide until I am dead, Ellayna, and I do not plan on that being overly soon.” 

She nodded again. Whether or not he was finished talking did not matter; Ellayna turned away, not wishing to hear any more. There were many things to run through her head. Despite her heavy heart, when Farkas poked his head from his chambers to ask her if everything was alright, she still smiled.


	11. Truth

Ulfric’s allowance couldn’t have come at a better time. Ellayna decided to ignore the crude fact that nords despised magic and make herself learn new spells. Frankly the only way she’d managed to survive that dragon was her magic, not by her archery and certainly not by any blade. So as soon as the courier delivered her pouch of coin she left Jorrvaskr and traveled the short way up to Dragonsreach. She was embarrassedly winded at the end of the multiple staircases but pressed on into the keep nevertheless. There she sought Farengar Secret-Fire, a wizard Ellayna had only crossed paths with once. From him she purchased multiple spell-tomes, avoided his persistent questions about the dragon she recently dispatched, and left as soon as she was able. 

Currently she sat in Farkas’ chambers, the spell tomes open and surrounding her. This was the only private place she could be when casting spells. Most of the Companions being nords, she didn’t doubt she would have to deal with snide comments if she practiced in front of them. Leaning back against Farkas’ headboard, Ellayna focused on the space before her. Bringing her magic to her fingers she conjured the familiar from the tome. There was a “whosh” and a sphere of deep purple. Ellayna paused, vaguely concerned about what was going to emerge from it. Suddenly a canine stood in its place. Not just any canine; a wolf. The beast look around in confusion, tail between its hind legs. Its body mildly transparent and pale grey, it didn’t strike a frightening figure. It gave a whimper and lowered its head, bewildered. Ellayna gaped at the wolf, mouth open. “You’re supposed to be ferocious,” she hissed quietly at it. 

The door of Farkas’ chamber opened and the nord nearly yelped. He hurriedly closed the door, cautiously stepping around the familiar. The wolf, hackles raised, was just as cautious of him. “Why is there a wolf?” Farkas asked with concern. 

“It’s supposed to be a familiar to help me fight, but somehow I don’t think that’s what this scaredy-cat will do–” The wolf snarled abruptly, interrupting her. Eyes locked on the wolf, Farkas lowered himself onto the bed pallet beside Ellayna. 

“I don’t think you should call him a cat.” 

“Agreed.” 

Neither of the two relaxed until the wolf disappeared, “whoshing” away in a flurry of purple. Farkas turned then to smile at Ellayna, watching her thoughtfully. 

She prodded his thigh with her foot. “Is there a reason for your stare, you big lovable nord?” 

“You’re very pretty,” his smile got bigger, reaching his eyes. Then he moved, heedlessly knocking down the spell tomes, climbing over the small bed to lay beside her. On his side, he had his chin just against her shoulder. 

Ellayna watched him kiss her shoulder out of the corner of her eye. “You seem happy.” 

“I am,” he began grinning then tried to conceal it against her arm. “I had an idea.” 

“Oh? Do tell.” 

He shifted nervously. “There’s this place I used to go to when I was a kid. Vil doesn’t even know where it is. It’s outside Whiterun and I used to use it as my… safe place.” 

“‘Safe place’?” 

“I used to get in a lot of trouble when I was a kid. A lot of trouble Sometimes I had to run away from that, or get away from Vil if he was being a grump,” Farkas spoke shyly. “I want to take you there.” 

“Truly?” 

He made a grumbling sound. “I’m not joking.” 

“I didn’t say you were,” she smiled warmly and pressed a kiss to the top of his forehead. “So where is this place?” 

“South of Whiterun. It’s hard to explain where, exactly. I’d be better of showing you the way.” 

She chuckled and leaned into him more. “I supposed we could call it a date?” 

Even from where she was she could see him blush. “I suppose,” he mumbled against her arm. “So you’ll come with me?” 

“Of course, I want to see where tiny you hid when you were a little shit.” 

There was a rude and loud thud on the door of the chamber. “I need to talk to you!” Vilkas barked low. Farkas sighed against her. 

“I think he’s talking to you,” Ellayna murmured. “Somehow I don’t think he would tolerate looking at myself.” 

Farkas mumbled an agreement and pushed himself up. He gave her a lingering kiss then, reluctantly, moved away. She missed his warmth against her side immediately and wished they had gotten to speak longer.

[-X-]

Farkas could see Vilkas pacing before he pushed his twin’s door open fully. There was little part of him that wanted to speak to his brother when Vilkas had that particular look on his face. Vilkas’ jaw was clenched, his nose wrinkled slightly as if he was about to snarl. He bit his thumb’s nail, glancing up at Farkas with brooding eyes. His shoulders were hunched and the tendons in his neck protruding. “Why are you looking so pleased?” Vilkas demanded. 

Briefly Farkas considered whether or not to tell Vilkas the whole truth, but he hated lying to his brother. “Ellayna agreed to go to my Safe Place with me.” 

“What?” Vilkas froze where he was. His eyes were locked on Farkas. “You’re taking that bitch to your ‘safe place’ yet you refuse to take me? You fucking traitor!” 

“Vil?” Farkas closed the door behind himself, stunned. His Safe Place was somewhere he didn’t take Vilkas because sometimes even loved ones become too much to be around. But he wanted to share that with Ellayna; he wanted to have her in a place where neither Vilkas nor Athis could glower and snarl. “How can you say that?” 

“Because I am your brother, and she’s some common slut–” 

“How can you say that? She’s not a slut and stop being horrible!” 

A shrill, sickening laugh came from Vilkas. “You don’t know the half of it, do you? Go speak to Athis.” 

“I don’t want to speak with Athis, I’m talking to you and you’re being nasty.” 

“I’ll tell you then,” Vilkas stepped forward confrontationally, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s was a whore. Literally. Men used to pay her for her body. Athis told me he saw her in a brothel in Solitude. General Tullius himself used to pay for her.” 

Farkas just stared. He clenched his jaw and kept his lips sealed. 

“That woman you’re so keen on has probably fucked hundreds of men. I don’t understand why you’re chasing after a whore like her. You’re worth more than that, Farkas, to me and to everyone else.” 

Instead of replying, Farkas turned away. With something akin to a growl, Vilkas grabbed his twin’s arm and held him there with an iron grip. Farkas kept his eyes away, feeling his rage gathering. Whether it was truth or not he did not know; truthfully he did not care. But it hurt that it was this Vilkas was trying to use to force Farkas away from her. 

“You have to hear this and understand it,” desperation was leaking into Vilkas’ voice now. “You have to understand what she is. She’s a liar and a bitch and doesn’t deserve your attentions,” Vilkas’ other hand slid down to Farkas’ balled fist. He tried vainly to unclench Farkas’ fingers and join their hands together. “Farkas, please. Understand where I’m coming from–”

“Stop!” Farkas snapped defensively. “You can’t change my opinion of her.” 

Never had Farkas seen Vilkas looking so betrayed. “Farkas, she was a whore–” 

“What does that even matter?” 

Vilkas was suddenly rampant again. “You’re trusting that bitch over me? I’m your brother, Farkas,” he pushed himself against Farkas, his face almost touching his twin’s. “Your twin brother. And you know we’re more than that–” 

“No!” Farkas pulled away. “Leave Ellayna alone, and leave me alone!” 

He left Vilkas gawping after him. As soon as Farkas opened and slammed the door behind himself, he was glad he could no longer see his brother. The fury of a wolf was boiling inside of him, snarling internally. He wanted to believe that Vilkas said those things for Farkas’ benefit but he knew the selfishness of his brother’s words. Vilkas wanted to push Ellayna away. Worse, he wanted Farkas himself to distance himself from her. Instead of wanting his brother to be happy, Vilkas wished only for his own happiness and selfish pleasures. 

Ellayna emerged from Farkas’ chamber. As always he smiled when he saw her but that immediately faded. There were tears in her eyes. She met his gaze squarely, her voice shaking, “Now you know.” 

“Puppy, it doesn’t matter what Vilkas said.” 

“It does, Farkas,” she spat, trying to storm passed him. “It fucking does.” 

His reflexes were to grab her instead of letting her pass. Before she shook from his grasp he could feel her trembling. “It doesn’t matter, pup,” he tried futilely to reassure her. “Truthfully it doesn’t.” 

“You don’t understand!” Her voice rose to a shout. “I don’t want your pity and I don’t want you feeling like you have to take care of me.” 

“Ellay–” 

She all but ran passed him. Confused, he followed her. Not once did she glance back as she stalked into the whelps’ barracks. “Puppy, it’s not like that,” Farkas sounded small. “There are things I can think of that I don’t want you knowing about me,” this was entirely accurate, “But you would be better off knowing them. This is like that. Just because I know who you used to be, that doesn’t mean I see you any differently.” 

After grabbing her cloak and a pouch from beneath her bed pallet, her gaze shot to him with venom he never wanted to see again. “How can you not see me differently, Farkas? What the hell makes you so different from everyone else?” 

Farkas’ tone was falling to anxiety. He did not understand why she was panicking. “How much did you hear us say?” 

She stared at him, then looked away. “I heard Vilkas tell you. These walls are awfully thin. I couldn’t listen after that.” 

“Then you don’t know everything I said.” 

“I don’t need to!” 

The last thing Ellayna grabbed was a pair of riding boots and passed him, unable to meet his eyes. Still, Farkas was confused. She was correct about one thing and that was that he felt pity for her. Anyone would feel pity for someone who had to resort to such measures. Why she was overreacting and panicking in a way so unlike her? He could not wrap his head around her actions. 

He tailed her again, more like a lost pup than a furious nord. He could see her as she swung her cloak around her shoulders. “Ellayna,” he called after her, hurrying up the steps into the mead hall itself. Unfortunately there were other gazes now on them; Skjor, Aela, Njada and Athis. The latter was the worst person to be witnessing this. The four were sitting at the rectangle table, tankards in hand. 

“I didn’t give you a job,” Aela’s eyes narrowed as she pointed this out to Ellayna. 

“You did not,” Ellayna tersely confirmed. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.” 

Skjor’s usual scowl deepened. “And where do you think you’re going?” 

“Away.” 

Farkas decided to plead. “Ellayna, stop, please. Talk to me.” 

The laugh Athis let free a laugh much like the one Vilkas had at one stage. “You finally found out, then? Good. Let her leave and hope that she doesn’t come back.” 

“Explain,” Skjor barked. 

“She’s a prostitute,” Athis leaned back in his chair and revealed all smugly. “Is or was, it doesn’t make a difference. She’s still a dishonorable whore.” 

Ellayna paused where she was. For a brief moment Farkas believed she would throw herself at him in fury. Instead she then continued her escape, giving Farkas a short-lived glance. In her expression there was not only sorrow but guilt. Then she left Jorrvaskr, not uttering a goodbye. That time Farkas did not follow her.


	12. Silence, My Brother

Ellayna had taken her pinto mare Butter and headed southward. She had left Whiterun fairly late in the day and by night she reached nowhere. Although she was panicked and angry when she left Jorrvaskr, she had the sense to buy previsions before she left Whiterun or she would have been suffering an empty stomach. She was forced to sleep in a hollow on the side of the road, hoping she had concealed herself well enough. Nothing eventful happened despite her fretting and she continued traveling early the next morning. 

On the road to Riverwood, she was forced to avoid Imperial soldiers walking a shackled Stormcloak. The likelihood of her being recognized by the soldiers was low, even if she had spent years around various men and various Imperial camps. But there was always a glimmer of fear in her that Tullius had an order put out for her to be apprehended or killed on sight. Ellayna pulled her cloak’s hood up to cover her head then urged Butter to stand on the side of the road and wait for the soldiers and the prisoner to pass. The prisoner, forced to wear only a loincloth, stared at Ellayna as he was forced to keep walking. Perhaps he was trying to make her feel guilty for not rushing to his aid. He was the only one who paid any heed to Ellayna; the soldiers did not even glance her way. 

She had little choice but to continue southward. During her hours of tedious riding, she had too much time to reflect on how badly things had gone with the Companions. She would go back, she promised herself, but not until she had gone to the Falkreath Sanctuary. In truth she dreaded going back. Everyone knew. She understood now there would always be someone who would bring her history up, it was unescapable. There was some hope for her relationship with Farkas; he seemed not to care about her past. That small fact had not stopped her from panicking and fleeing, but it could be the thing that pushes her over the edge to return to Jorrvaskr. 

Using her allowance from Ulfric, when she arrived in Riverwood during the late afternoon she purchased a room at the Sleeping Giant Inn for the night. There she also acquired hearty meal of beef stew and rye bread, then settled for a short evening of listening to the gossip around her. There wasn’t much. A drunk was rambling and a bard singing the tale of Ragnar the Red. Ellayna tired quickly and retired for the night. 

Initially she planned to get a long rest then rise early, hoping to ride quickly and make it to the Falkreath Sanctuary late tomorrow. Unfortunately her luck did not go that way and instead she had a nightmare every time she slipped into sleep. It was similar to ones that she had before, about walking up those seven thousands steps to High Hrothgar. Except this time she was not a ghost. She was a goat, being lead up through the snow storm by the frost troll. A chain of glass connected him to her. Voices chanted Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin. When they reached the monastery, wings could be heard beating. And that was it. Every time Ellayna fell asleep, this is what played in her mind. By early morning, she was tired, miserable and irritated. 

Yet she took Butter and pressed on. Her weariness meant she did not get as far as she intended. Again she was forced to find a secluded place to sleep then continued the next morning. 

Midafternoon, after three nights, she came to the Falkreath Sanctuary. It was off the road, near a small, shining dark pool of water. The Black Door sat hidden underneath a small rise of a hill, concealed by the bushes and trees around it. The door itself loomed over her, an eerie skull with a hand print that looked like it had been pressed into the stone with blood on its forehead. Fearlessly, Ellayna pressed her hand to the empty black space on the door beside the skull. 

A breathy, hollow voice came from the door. “What is the music of life?” 

“Silence, my brother.” 

“Welcome home.” 

The door opened. Ellayna left Butter where she had tethered her and entered the Sanctuary. She did not startle when the door closed behind her immediately. Instead she made her way out of the narrow corridor and into a chamber. It was lit simply by tallow candles and had bookshelves lining two of the walls. By a rectangle table on which a map of Skyrim lay, a woman stood. From head to toe she wore tight black and red light armor. She looked around as soon as Ellayna entered and immediately smirked. “Well, darling,” Astrid put her hands on her hips. “You’re about the only thing that could have been a nice surprise.” 

Ellayna grinned, “Who else could have dropped in on you like this?” 

“I had been wondering that. My entire family is all here already.”

“Aren’t I your family as well?” 

“Yes, but I’m afraid to say you’re not an assassin.” 

“No, but I’m now a Companion.” 

Astrid laughed aloud at that. She strode forward, taking Ellayna in a tight embrace. Kissing the side of Ellayna’s head, Astrid pulled back and grinned. The look Ellayna was giving her faded the grin. “You weren’t kidding?” Astrid asked, holding both sides of Ellayna’s face. “You’re a Companion?” 

“By Ulfric’s orders, yes.” 

“Ulfric? Darling, you’re going to have to catch me up.” 

In Astrid’s chambers, seated on furs before the hearth, the childhood friends sat and had a chance to talk properly for the first time in years. Ellayna started from the beginning, from the near execution at Helgen to Ulfric’s sending her to the Companions to Athis’ hate of her. Astrid was mildly amused by Ellayna’s actually being the Dragonborn. “You know,” Astrid offered casually, “I could have Veezara slip in and out of Jorrvaskr to… deal with your problems.” 

Ellayna shook her head. “No, even if I don’t like certain people, there is the fact that I have to keep the Companion’s ‘honor’ in my actions.” 

“Honor; that’s laughable. All of those men and women have done something dishonorable in their lives, darling, I can guarantee it.” 

Reclining back on her elbow, Ellayna considered it. “I can’t see Farkas doing anything without honor.” 

“Ah, Farkas. This honorable Companion whom you have mentioned seven times already,” Astrid grinned wickedly. “Is my darling smitten?” 

“I wouldn’t say smitten.” 

“Wouldn’t you? Well, every other man I have ever heard you talk about has never been held in such a high praise.” 

Ellayna was ready to object when the door of the master bedchambers was opened. The white haired and bearded Arnbjorn stepped inside, squinting at Ellayna before realizing. “Lambshank, it’s you.” 

“It’s me, Arnbjorn. You don’t seem very pleased about that.” 

“I was ready to cut whoever was in here with my wife in half.” 

“No need to worry about that,” Astrid propped herself up and leaned toward him. “Darling’s smitten.” 

“Oh?” Arnbjorn sounded less impressed than Ellayna had. He joined them on the ground. The aging assassin joined Astrid on the ground. Affectionately he leaned against Astrid and Ellayna realized how similar that was to werewolf behavior. 

Astrid watched her husband with a smirk. “Darling is a Companion now. Do you happen to know one named Farkas?” 

“Haven’t heard that name in a while. He and his brother Vilkas used to be whelps running around our feet when I was there.” 

“You were a member of the Circle, yes?” Ellayna asked. 

“Aye.” 

“So you are a werewolf.” 

His and Astrid’s eyebrows both shot up. “You’re already privy to that secret,” Arnbjorn began to grin. “Hoping to become one yourself?” 

“I wouldn’t mind it.” 

“Careful now, tidbit, the beast isn’t an easy thing to tame.” 

Ellayna dismissed his warning, instead shaking her head and mumbled, “Why does everyone give me nicknames? Anyhow. Anything you can tell me about Farkas?” 

“I had to leave before he was a grown man. I know he used to get in trouble with the guards and his brother was always possessive. You’re keen on him?” 

“He’s very keen on me as well.” 

Astrid laughed. “Very keen? Well, I suppose you should be there instead of here.” 

That was the one side of the story Ellayna had left out. She sighed and told them the end of the story, why she had fled and what she had overheard. Both of these assassins she trusted with her life, no matter how odd that sounded. They both knew about her past already. That was how Ellayna had met Astrid; she had been working in the brothel as well, but left when Ellayna was seventeen. Astrid had grown sick of being paid by men so she decided to be paid to kill them. Not exactly how Ellayna ever envisioned getting out of that business but Astrid had a better life, a husband and a makeshift family. 

“I’ll be honest,” Astrid had a reprimanding note in her voice. “You overacted, darling. And now I am going to make that offer again: do you want me to have someone removed?” 

“I can’t exactly pursue Farkas if I had his brother killed. Don’t get me wrong; I’ll go back to the Companions. I just can’t guarantee how many friends I’ll have now.” 

“Wasn’t that always our lot in life?” Astrid pointed out. “Whores always had hundreds of lovers and no friends. I’m sure a Dragonborn can have one lover and a few friends far away.” 

She had a point and Ellayna agreed. She wanted to see Farkas again, even if no one else. Not that she had much of a choice; if she stayed away long enough, Ulfric would stop her allowance and possibly send Stormcloaks after her. One way or another, she would be dragged back to Jorrvaskr. It may as well be of her own will instead of by force. 

For an entire week Ellayna lived under the roof belonging to the Dark Brotherhood. Most of that time she stayed with Astrid or hung around the forge with Arnbjorn. All of the other members treated her like family and for the first time in a while, she felt excepted. The Companions, although some of them had been kind to her, were not generally this welcoming. In a way she dreaded going back. There would either be pity or disgust in the eyes of those who now knew. But after that week, she decided it was best she return to Jorrvaskr. She couldn’t have gone any longer with the guilt of leaving Farkas bewildered and abandoned on her. It would take three nights to return to Whiterun and she feared walking up those steps to see the Companions again.


	13. Honor

Pushing one of the doors of Jorrvaskr open, Ellayna quietly stepped inside. She decided in that moment that it would have been better for her to wait for a time when the Companions were not all in one place. Being midday, every one of the honorable men and woman were seated around the table in the middle of the mead hall. All eyes fell onto Ellayna. In that moment it became clear the few who did not know about her past knew now. Even Tilma cringed upon seeing her. Only Kodlak’s gaze remained unchanged. 

Farkas immediately shot out of his chair. Vilkas made a brief attempt to grab his twin’s wrist but Farkas avoided him. Farkas’ expression was full of worry and alarm as he dashed toward Ellayna. He went to take her face between his hands but stopped himself, instead placing them on her shoulders. “Are you alright?” He asked gently. 

Ellayna nodded, moving passed him. She scanned the hall, seeing the contempt and the disgust almost everyone regarded her with. Athis had a smug smirk on his mouth and Vilkas seemed just as pleased. 

“Whores are without honor,” Skjor stated without warning. That stung Ellayna more than if Athis had said it. Skjor was a man she had grown to respect, his authority absolute. She found herself respecting him less now. 

“You should leave the Companions,” Njada took a gulp of her ale, now not looking at Ellayna. “You’re not welcome.” 

“Njada,” Kodlak silenced her with his gently spoken firmness. “Ellayna has put that behind her.” 

Torvar decided to add his opinion. “I’ve met whores before. They never really put it behind themselves, believe me.” 

Ellayna turned away. She made for the living quarters, hearing Farkas and someone else tailing her. Once down into the barracks, she spun to confront those who followed her. Farkas lingered behind Aela, who was storming down the stairs. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Ellayna?” Aela demanded. “That is something you should have told me.” 

“And what would you have done? Look at me with those disgusted eyes and tell me I’ll never have enough “honor” to be a Companion?” Ellayna bit back. “Do you think I liked keeping this? I knew exactly what sort of stares I’d get, what sort of sneers people would give me. It doesn’t make a damned difference that you’re Aela and you think you know what’s best. This sort of thing changes how people view someone,” she paused. “Expect for Farkas. He doesn’t seem to count.” 

That made a small smile twitch at Farkas’ lips but made no difference to Aela’s stony expression. “That’s still not the sort of thing to keep from the person training you.” 

“Here’s an idea, then,” Ellayna stepped forward, staring up at Aela defiantly. She felt her nose tingle and her throat begin to tighten. In all honesty, she had thought Aela her friend. No longer, Ellayna supposed. “Stop training me, if you’re too proud to tutor a whore.” 

Aela held her gaze for a moment longer then stepped away, leaving Ellayna and Farkas alone in the passageway. Shakily, Ellayna pushed her hair back out of her face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come back after all.” 

“I’m glad you did,” Farkas reassured her. “You don’t deserve any of this.” 

“Don’t I?” She laughed bitterly, feeling tears slip passed her eyelashes. “This must be some sort of punishment from a deity or daedra for what I used to do.” 

Farkas swayed forward awkwardly, considering. Then he opened his arms out to her, smiling. Shaking her head, she let herself fall into his embrace. It was nice, not feeling alone. He held her there, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Where did you go for two weeks, pup?” He asked softly after a while. 

“Six days I spent traveling to and from. The middle week I stayed with a friend, who I’ve known for a long time. She said I overacted. I did. I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t need to say you’re sorry. I understand.” 

She was glad he didn’t press for questions. “I arrived in Whiterun last night,” she admitted against him, almost inaudible. “I couldn’t bring myself to come here. I stayed in the Bannered Mare instead.” 

After another while, Ellayna pulled back. She wiped her eyes with her sleeves, sniffling. “I’m so bloody tired,” she sighed. “I keep getting nightmares.” Somehow she found it so easy now to tell him the truth. 

“Go sleep, then,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He gave her an encouraging nudge. “Sleeping will help.” 

She couldn’t argue with that. Reluctantly she headed toward her untouched bed pallet. Without glancing at Farkas, she fell into it. It did not take longer than a few seconds for her to fall into a dreamless slumber. 

-

Whispers were what she woke to. Hushed, callous whispers. Ellayna new that voice. Athis. Ellayna tried to jerk upwards and out of the bed but a hand on her shoulder kept her down. “Don’t bother.” 

In the doorway Njada and Ria lingered. The latter had a far guiltier look on her face than the former did. Njada noticed Ellayna’s gaze and took Ria’s arm, guiding her out of the whelp’s barracks. Torvar followed, closing the door behind himself. 

Athis sat on the bed pallet, his hip against Ellayna’s shoulder-blades. He removed his hand and pulled a knife from seemingly nowhere. He toyed with it absently. “You shouldn’t have come back,” he observed. “It was a mistake.” 

Ellayna held her tongue, twisting her neck to stare up at him from where she lay. 

“You’re a problem. If it wasn’t going to get me kicked out of the Companions, I’d just get rid of you.”

Now Ellayna was regretting not taking Astrid up on her offer. After a tense moment, Ellayna launched herself upwards. Athis was swifter than she was. He caught her, twisting her around and letting her tumble onto the ground. She groaned with the shock of hitting the solid surface. On her belly, she tried to wriggle away from Athis. He stood over her, his feet on either side of her hips. One of those feet moved to press against the middle of her back, holding her there. “You’re a problem for Vilkas,” Athis growled. “It would have been better for all of us if you had just stayed away. It would have been better for you if you had just stayed away.” 

Ellayna shook her head, making an inaudible reply. 

“What did you say, bitch?” His fingers wove their way through her hair and he pulled her up, listening to her cry out. She clawed at his wrists as her back arched. He leaned forward so his mouth was against her ear. “What did you say?” 

“I fucking hate you,” she hissed through her pain. 

“Good.” He harshly pushed her back down. For a moment the pressure on her back released and she scrambled to get away. This threw him off balance and for a fleeting moment she believed she could get away. Ellayna nearly got on her feet before she was thrown back down by a kick to the belly. She landed with a thud. Determined, she pushed herself onto all fours. Only to be kicked in the face, the momentum flinging her onto her back. 

“Is there a point to this?” She demanded, spitting a mouthful of blood up at him. “Are you doing to tell me to stay away from Farkas next?” 

“That’s only half the point. The other half is because I’m better than you,” Athis crouched beside her. “You’re nothing. I’m just proving the fact.” 

Ellayna grinned at him, her teeth bloody and her split lip cracking further. Abruptly she swung a leg up, whacking him in the side. While he regained his balance Ellayna tried to bolt. She got as far as to stand before Athis hurled himself forward and grabbed at her waist. Ellayna screamed for help, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. Athis had a hand over her mouth in the next moment, muffling her voice. He unsympathetically pinned her against himself, pulling his knife back out. “Maybe I should just kill you,” he snarled in her ear. “It would make it easier for all of us.” 

She sunk her teeth into the meat of his hand. He roared as his blood filled her mouth. Then she drove her elbow into his ribs. When he doubled over she pulled away, turning to face him. She spat his blood back at him, letting it splatter over his head and face. She let the shout come to her lips, sending him stumbling back. “Fus.” Ellayna bolted while Athis was distracted. She burst out of the door, finding the passageway empty. She had only an instant to decide where was safe. The way she chose was left. 

She ran as quickly as she could, pain and panic doing their best to blind her. She burst through Kodlak’s doors, immediately closing them behind herself. Panting, she looked toward where Kodlak usually sat. He was there as she hoped, but so was someone else. Vilkas sat in the chair opposite him, staring at Ellayna with alarm. 

Despite all, she laughed. She tried to walk forward but her knees buckled. Landing heavily with her hands holding her up off the ground, she coughed. Metallic blood, a mixture of her own and Athis’, dribbled from her mouth to the rug covering the floor. The kick Athis had given her to her face loosened one of her teeth and had mashed her cheek against her teeth as well as split her lower lip. Her breathing ragged, shallow and painful, she suspected she had either a broken or a cracked rib. 

“Leave,” Kodlak ordered. Ellayna looked up, thinking it had been aimed at her. Instead Vilkas was striding toward the doors, avoiding Ellayna’s gaze and stepping around her. He closed the doors behind himself. Kodlak looked very wise where he sat, his hands clasped in his lap, his grey eyes regarding Ellayna curiously. “You came back.” 

That was what he mentioned, not the fact she was dripping blood onto his rug. “Aye,” she pushed herself to kneel. “Why did I come back, Kodlak?” She demanded like he would know. “Why do I subject myself to this?” 

“You want the redemption I offered. You want a lover of your own, one that doesn’t pay for you.” 

She snorted. “That was blunt.” 

“You asked me why, I told you why. Those are the two reasons you are here.”

Ellayna pushed herself up. She managed to stumble to the chair where Vilkas had sat only minutes before. “Redemption,” she shook her head. “I’m beginning to hate that word.” 

“So you should.” 

They sat in silence for a while. Kodlak was the first to move, walking over to a cabinet where he retrieved a healing potion. He placed it Ellayna’s hand and sat down again. Removing the cork top, Ellayna forced her damaged lips to close around the top and she downed the bitter liquid. She shuddered as her flesh stitched itself back together and bone heal. There was still blood in her mouth and an echo of the pain, but at least she no longer bled. 

It was Ellayna’s words that broke the silence. “I think you’d know a man named Arnbjorn,” she murmured. That certainly got Kodlak’s attention; his head shot toward her and his eyes narrowed. “He told me before I left where I’ve been for a week that I have to be careful about the Companions’ sense of honor. Sometimes they’re not as honorable as they think they are. And if you think honor is what Athis just did to me, you’re a fool, Kodlak.” 

“Vilkas came to talk to be about Athis. He must have timed it do distract me.” 

“If I lack honor for doing anything to survive, then they certainly do for loathing me for petty reasons.” 

Kodlak sighed, visibly sagging in his chair. “You’re right. About that and about me being a fool. Until they showed their true colours due to you, I believed both Athis and Vilkas honorable. And that was despite Vilkas’ past.” 

“Vilkas’ past,” Ellayna repeated, considering it. “Does this past have something to do with his possessiveness over Farkas?” 

“I had a feeling you would figure it out. You are certainly not a fool.” 

“I have nothing more than hunches. I won’t draw conclusions until Farkas choses to tell me himself.” 

“Just know that it was always Vilkas’ more than Farkas’ choice.” 

Ellayna was trembling as she pushed herself up. She took a deep breath in, pleased that it no longer pained her. “You don’t think I’m a fool, but I indeed am.” She left Kodlak where he was, leaving his chambers to seek out Farkas. What she would be partly to enrage Vilkas, but mostly for herself.


	14. Besotted Nord

She could hear Farkas’ heavy breathing beside her. It was nearly light snoring and she could feel his warm breath against the bare skin of her shoulder. Ellayna couldn’t remember when they had lay down to sleep but it felt like an eternity ago. She stared at the ceiling, listening to Farkas and pondering the events of the day. Having spent her entire morning cowering, she then ventured back to Jorrvaskr to find only Farkas and Kodlak were still fond of her. Then she had been beaten bloody by a man who hated her, had a tense talk with Kodlak and spent the rest of the evening with Farkas. 

Initially they had just talked. He fretted when Ellayna told him about being beaten and took a healing potion to remedy her hurts. Her mouth was still full of blood and her chin red when she sought him out, much to his utter horror. He had almost begged her to tell him what had happened. Perhaps it was his concern that had persuaded her to tell him, or that he was genuinely her only friend in the Companions. Either way, she told him and they spent the rest of the evening in his chambers talking. At one stage he had disappeared upstairs to bring them back food and she felt his absence keenly. She put that down to knowing Athis was somewhere in Jorrvaskr as well. When Farkas had returned, she was immediately relieved. His entire presence was comforting. 

During the course of the night their touches had grown more intimate. Eventually it led to increasingly deeper kisses and both of them on Farkas’ bed pallet. Farkas had been a little awkward but that melted after a while, resulting in the rest of the evening being full of coupling and laughing. 

Since they had decided it was time to sleep, Ellayna had simply been lying there. She recounted the events over and over, trying her utmost to fall asleep. With that being unsuccessful, she attempted to count the seconds. That did not last long. She began thinking about her evening with Farkas instead. Nothing seemed to work. She sighed, running her hand over her face. Beside her Farkas moved but did not wake. It occurred to Ellayna then that he was perhaps the first man she had been with who she had chosen to be with, instead of them just paying for her company. 

She must have slept at some point. This resulted only in her waking again, wearier than before but unable to fall back asleep. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was unless one listened for the sounds outside the chamber. With no windows, the only way to tell was hearing what the other people in Jorrvaskr were doing. 

Farkas stirred. He tried to stretch but found Ellayna was in the way. Instead he rolled onto his back to stretch and nearly fell off the small bed. He grunted as he righted himself, moving back onto his side to face Ellayna. He sleepily rubbed his eyes as he murmured, “You awake?” 

“I have been for a while.” 

That concerned him. “How long, pup?” 

She just shrugged, turning her head to him. “No regrets about last night?” 

He blushed, a smile immediately going to his lips. He tried to hide it against her shoulder. “It was unexpected, but I don’t regret it, puppy.” He froze, tensing against her. “Do you?” 

“Not at all.” 

He pressed his lips to Ellayna’s skin, closing his eyes. For a while he drifted in and out of sleep, his arm around Ellayna’s waist. She was content just to lay in the warmth with him. 

Without warning and without knocking, Vilkas came through the doors. By the expression of sheer surprise that claimed his face, he had not been expecting to find Ellayna there, let alone to find her lying naked with his brother. Farkas shot upright, abruptly awake and startled. Vilkas physically recoiled, mouth open as if he wanted to say something but had lost the words. After an awkward moment Vilkas’ jaw set in a clench and his eyes narrowed. “I have a job for you, Farkas.” That was all his said before leaving, slamming the doors behind himself. 

“A job?” Ellayna asked immediately. “He doesn’t own you.” 

“I asked him to keep an eye out for a job that would take less than a day, just in case you came back while I was gone,” Farkas’ shoulders sagged. “I think I have to do it since I did ask for one, pup, even if you’re here now.” 

He moved himself from the bedding, his warmth gone at once. Ellayna stayed reclined in the bedding, watching him don most of his steel armor. When it came to the breastplate and his pauldrons, Ellayna pushed herself up and knelt on the end of the bed pallet to help him with the buckles. He spoke quietly as she helped him. “The job will be in Whiterun or just outside, so I shouldn’t be long.”

“I’ll just stay here,” Ellayna decided. “In this room. If I don’t show my face, perhaps nobody will recall that I’m down here and leave me alone.” 

“Puppy...” 

“Nobody else likes me, Farkas. I am fine down here until you return.” 

Once he was equipped and ready, his hands went to either side of Ellayna’s head, then down to her cheeks. He was embarrassed and red-faced as he asked, “Can I kiss you?” 

Her answer was rising forward and pressing her lips to his. Her own hands clasped onto the gauntlets guarding his wrists. When they parted Ellayna could feel Farkas’ thumbs smooth the skin underneath her eyes. Reluctantly, he pulled away. He claimed his greatsword from where it rested against the wall and left, giving her one last remorseful glance. 

For a while after he was gone, Ellayna just lay around. Eventually she dressed and decided to practice her conjuring and her illusions. She wasn’t really improving in either. The familiar, the ghost like wolf, was at least warming up to her. 

The complaining of her stomach was what forced her to emerge from hiding. An hour after midday, Ellayna snuck from Farkas’ chambers and tiptoed into the mead hall. Just as she expected, the Companions had not long finished their meals and had left to do whatever training or jobs called them away. Ellayna was not there for long, merely taking some bread and cheese and slunk back to the relative safety of Farkas’ chamber. 

Belly full and comfortable on the bed pallet, Ellayna succumb to her tiredness. There was no way to estimate how much actual sleep she managed to get before her nightmares set in. Again, she dreamt she was a goat being led to High Hrothgar by the troll. The goat had a look in its eyes that was like it was being led to the slaughterhouse. 

Ellayna woke to the door being opened. For a sickening, heart wrenching moment she believed Athis had come to beat her again and punish her for sex with Farkas. Instead it was just Farkas, looking exhausted. She felt the fool, having though Farkas was Athis. Then despised herself for her mistake. In no way should she ever compare Farkas to Athis. They were entirely different people, one whom she cared about and one whom she wished never to see again. 

“Were you sleeping, puppy?” Farkas sounded more amused than anything. 

“Even if I didn’t sleep well,” Ellayna smirked. “My being tired is completely your fault.” 

Farkas turned away, shaking his head as he began to strip his armor. Ellayna laughed, propping herself up a little. “You’re smiling,” she informed him cheekily. 

“How do you know?” He asked. Even his voice gave it away. “You can’t see my face, pup.” 

“I just know. You are, aren’t you?” 

He looked over his shoulder at her, a smile over his lips and in his eyes. He then continued stripping off his armor, pulling on just a pair of breeches. Turning back to her, he began to climb onto the bed pallet with her. She extended her leg and poked Farkas in the thigh, grinning at him. “You’re besotted with me,” she teased. “Admit it.” 

“Is it such a bad thing, pup?” Even his ear flushed red. 

“Not for me.” She sat up more, folding her legs and patting her lap. Farkas hesitated, then lay down with his head resting on her legs. He shifted a few times uncomfortably, eyes fluttering closed, then relaxed against her. “What was the job?” She asked, stroking the hair back from his forehead. 

“Just beating some sense into a farmer. It didn’t even take me long, it was just the traveling.” He fidgeted again, then settled. “It doesn’t make sense to me, pup.” 

“What?” 

“Why everyone hates what you did so much. I’ve been thinking about it all day and I can’t understand it. What’s so wrong with it? You did what you had to do.” 

“Aye, I did. But their sense of honor gets in the way of that. I’d like to see them try to do something else in my situation.” 

Again he moved uneasily. In the smallest voice he queried, “What was your situation, pup?” 

She knew this would come eventually. Sick of lies and mistrust, she immediately opted to be truthful. “I had nowhere to live and no food. You’re right about I did what I had to.” 

“What about your parents?” 

“I have no idea what happened to Pa. Went to fight, maybe? Whatever happened he never came back,” she breathed out deeply, realizing how horribly exposing telling the truth was. She had had more confidence standing physically naked in front of Farkas than she did baring herself with words. “Ma became really sick when I was nine. All I remember was that she was coughing blood one day and then that was it.” 

Farkas’ eyes opened. “I’m sorry, puppy.” 

“There’s nothing you should be sorry about. I don’t remember it well. After that, I began thieving to get food. The guards in Solitude kept catching me and threatened to banish me from the city. I was thirteen when I found another line of work,” she chuckled bitterly, lifting her head so he couldn’t see her face. “That was that. If I hadn’t worked for the brothel, I wouldn’t have had food and a roof over my head.” 

“You did what you had to,” he repeated from before. “If you hadn’t, Skyrim wouldn’t have a Dragonborn. There’s no shame in surviving.” 

“There is shame in it, according to the other Companions,” Ellayna looked back at him. “What about your sad story, then?” 

“Mam died having me and Vil. My father was a Companion too, working while we ran around on the streets,” Farkas’ hands picked nervously at each other. “Silver-hand killed him.” 

Ellayna stayed quite. She fiddled with a piece of his dark hair, braiding it into a plait. 

“The Companions are my family,” Farkas told her softly. “I can’t believe they could dislike you so much, puppy. It’s not right.” 

“I’m afraid to say, there isn’t much in this world that’s right. We have dragons and draugr running rampant, as well as a civil war and we still hate each other over petty things.” 

Farkas abruptly pushed himself up. His forehead would have hit her chin if she had not leaned back. Twisting to face her, his brows were furrowed and his jaw set hard. “Puppy you’re making it all sound very bleak.” 

“It is very bleak,” she began to grin mischievously. “But that’s why we need sex and people to be besotted with to make things less bleak.” 

To his credit, he tried not to laugh. It didn’t last long and they were both snickering over this fact. It was truth, though. Everyone needed a distraction from the rest of the world and for Ellayna, Farkas was currently hers.


	15. Headless Horseman

Ellayna became very good at avoiding her fellow Companions. Farkas often brought food from the hall down to his chambers and ate with her instead of at the great table. Without discussing it, Ellayna made herself very at home in his chamber, no longer sleeping in the whelps’ barracks. Truth be told she was frightened to go anywhere near a place Athis may be lurking. 

For almost a week Ellayna lived underneath Jorrvaskr, bored when she was alone and distracted only when Farkas was able to join her. One evening when Farkas joined her, he was grinning from ear to ear. Yet he said nothing immediately, despite the glances he gave her. 

She watched him suspiciously when he shed his armor. “Something’s happened?” She asked. 

“Aye, puppy. I got a job for us to do.” 

“Us? As in you and I?” 

“Yes,” he pulled on trousers and then knelt in front of where she sat on a padded chair. “Do you not want to go, pup? I thought it would be better than being constantly stuck here.” 

“Before I say anymore, what’s the job?” 

“Just knocking sense into some loudmouth. But we’ll be gone from here a while, it’s in Dragon Bridge.” 

Ellayna almost declined. Dragon Bridge was awfully close to Solitude, there was a chance she could be recognized. She told herself not to care. If she was recognized, perhaps that would give her a chance to spit in someone’s face. “I’ll come with you,” she inclined her head. “But it seems like a long way to go just to punch someone in the jaw.” 

He took her hand in his, running his thumb down her palm. “It will be good to be away from here for a while, pup,” he kissed her knuckles, then pretended to bite them. 

“I think you’re just trying to escape your brother.” 

“Vil is… difficult.” Releasing her hand and pushing himself up, Farkas put one hand on the arm rests either side of her and leaned forward. “You’re always bringing him up, puppy.” 

She cocked her chin at him, “You’re brothers. He’s important to you.” 

“That he is. Sometimes he’s just not a nice person, and doesn’t deserve your thoughts to be on him.” 

“And sometimes you have a point.” 

Farkas kissed her, lightly at first then let it deepen. They mutually decided that there had been enough talk about Vilkas. 

The next morning they readied themselves. They agreed that it may be early enough to avoid being noticed. They were indeed wrong. Standing near the tall double doors leading into the training yard was Skjor and Vilkas. The former noticed them first, then Vilkas turned around. As usual, his expression immediately hardened. He walked toward them, Skjor forgotten. “When I gave you the job,” Vilkas mumbled in hushed anger. “I thought you were taking it on your own, Farkas.” 

Skjor raised his voice from the door, “It’s not a job for more than one person.” 

“Shall we call my presence,” Ellayna thought on it, scowling. “Moral support?” 

Vilkas snorted in contempt, looking away then returning his gaze to Farkas. “Please yourself then, brother.” 

Hand on Ellayna’s back, Farkas guided her from Jorrvaskr. “Well,” Ellayna laughed bitterly. “That went well. Isn’t it just a happy family?” 

Farkas gave no reply. They were silent as they walked through the frosted streets of Whiterun. Citizens were only just rising now, slow and quiet from the cold morning. Ellayna had no envy of the guards who had stood solemnly in the cold to watch over the empty streets. Out of Whiterun’s immense gates, they made their way down to the stables. The stablemaster saddled and bridled Ellayna’s mare Butter and an appaloosa gelding belonging to the Companions. Once they were ready, Ellayna and Farkas mounted and set off. They went west, on the stone road which would take them through Rorikstead. 

They traveled only as far as they could in a day. With no villages or towns nearby, they camped underneath the stars, in a secluded area of trees, out of sight from the road. Ellayna unsaddled the mounts as Farkas set up and ignited a small fire for the evening. 

“Do you have a name for this horse?” Ellayna asked him idly. 

Out of the corner of her eye she could see him give her a glance. “I don’t, puppy.” 

“You should name him.” 

“What should I name him?” 

Ellayna gently ran her hand over the spotted neck of the gelding. “Freckles.” 

Farkas laughed loudly. “Pup, why Freckles?” 

“It’s a good name.” 

When he didn’t reply, she left the horses tethered where they were and joined him. Approaching where he sat from behind, she leant over him, pressing her mouth to the top of his head. Her arms went around his broad shoulders. Then she spoke against his hair. “Do you doubt my horse naming abilities?” 

She could feel him chuckle. “I’ll call him Freckles, just for you pup.” 

After that horribly cold evening, it took another day and two-thirds to get to Rorikstead. They stayed the night at the Frostfruit Inn, enjoying a meal of hot mutton and roasted root vegetables before retiring in the early evening. They did not get quite as much sleep as they intended, however. 

The next morning they continued their travels. Farkas was very right about one thing; it was good for Ellayna to get out of Jorrvaskr and into the fresh air. It was far better than being stuck in the same room all day, every day. They spent another two nights sleeping in the open before they arrived in Dragon Bridge. 

It was midmorning when they saw the bridge which the town was named after. As they crossed the chasm which the stone bridge arched over, Ellayna could not keep her eyes from the carved dragon head looming above them on slanted pillars. Once they had passed that, her focus settled on the town. Little more than a normal Skyrim town, with an impressive sight of mountains crouching behind them. 

As for the loudmouth Farkas said about, he was not difficult to find. Upon entering the town, they could hear shouting. After dismounting, they followed the sound with their horses plodding along behind them. They discovered two nords, a man and a woman, shouting abuse at each other. Farkas gave Ellayna Freckles’ reins to hold. Ellayna was pleased she wasn’t required to do anything. It didn’t take long for Farkas to intimidate the man into sulking away. The woman thanked him profusely, slipping Farkas a pouch of coin. 

“That was disappointing,” Ellayna signed at Farkas when he returned. “I didn’t even get to see my big nord punch someone.” 

“The woman just wanted someone to remind her husband of how little he was.” 

“We trekked almost halfway across Skyrim.” 

“But puppy,” Farkas smiled at her warmly, flushed. “You’re with me.” 

Ellayna stifled her smile and gave no reply. For lunch, they went to a building called the Four Shields Tavern. The tavern’s owner was the only one inside. She swiftly pointed them to a table and left through a door to fetch them something to eat and drink. 

“You know,” Ellayna sat heavily, pouting. “I almost don’t want to sleep outside tonight.” 

Farkas chuckled, joining her at the table. “Why’s that?” 

“I like the fresh air, if you can believe it.” 

“I can believe it.” 

The owner came back, balancing two plates of baked river fish and fresh bread with sweet butter. Once she placed them down, immediately she fetched two tankards. An imperial man entered the tavern, distracting the owner just as she was about to say something. Hurriedly she approached the man, who wore the garb of a farmer yet was hunched like a timid scholar. “Did you see them?” She demanded. 

Farkas made a brief attempt at trying to speak to Ellayna but found her attentions on the conversation on the other side of the tavern. 

“Yes, yes,” the farmer gulped nervously. “I think they’re coming here. I didn’t see any tents.” 

“Ah!” The owner clapped the farmer’s shoulder. “Good, I’ll think they’ll pay well if they stay the night.” 

Ellayna spoke up, “Who is coming here?” 

The farmer’s tongue darted to lick his lips and he exchanged a look with the tavern’s owner. “Part of the Imperial Legion,” the farmer answered. “They have high ranking men with them.” 

Nodding, Ellayna smiled and returned her attention to where her plate of food sat untouched. She lost the fake smile and stared into the meal. 

“Pup,” Farkas mumbled through his food. “We can sleep outside of the town if you’d like.” 

“Yes, please.” The paralyzing fear that General Tullius was with the group of Imperials was claiming her. She tried to tell herself it was unlikely but did not succeed. 

Ellayna attempted to eat her meal but had lost her appetite. Farkas readily agreed to finish what she had left of it. They paid the owner with the coin Farkas had been passed by the woman earlier. He also paid for their horses to be brushed down, fed, watered and housed overnight. No matter how much Ellayna adored Butter, she and Freckles were now two less things to worry about. 

Carrying knapsacks of food and their bedrolls, Ellayna and Farkas left over the bridge the way they had come that morning. They trekked into the woodland, scouring the land for an isolated little corner they could claim as their own. After much searching and a lot of Ellayna catching her feet on roots and stones, they found such a place with relatively flat ground. It took a while to make themselves comfortable, rolling out their bedding and lighting a campfire. As Ellayna sat on their bedroll to remove her boots, something occurred to her. “What if wolves get us?” 

“We’ve been sleeping outdoors a lot. Only now you’re worried?” 

“Before now we’ve always had the horses. I felt like they protected us.” She scowled at him when she heard him laughing. “I don’t know about Freckles, but Butter would protect me.” 

Farkas settled with her, leaning to his side to kiss her shoulder. “I don’t know what to say, puppy.” 

“Just agree with me.” 

“I agree with you.” 

The late afternoon and early evening of that day was perhaps the most content Ellayna had been in a long while. Despite her strange frets, feral wolves did not bother them. Neither did any person or other creature. They were happy to lie in the fading sun together, coupling and laughing and talking. Eventually they settled to doze when it grew dark. As the disappearance of the sun cooled the ground and air, Ellayna and Farkas grew closer beneath the fur-lined blankets. It was a very sleepy evening, neither of them able to keep their eyes open. 

Ellayna must have dosed for a while, her head on Farkas’ chest. In the dark of late evening she woke, thinking she woke for no reason. She could hear Farkas breathing heavily and felt the rise and fall of his chest. That was not all she became aware of. The sound of hooves hitting compacted ground thudded into her mind. She opened her eyes, yawning. Whatever she expected, it was not what she saw. 

Mere meters away from their camp were the transparent blue legs of a stallion. Ellayna followed the steed’s legs upward. The barrel of its belly and chest were the same see-through pale blue. Even the head and bride attached were the same. It was not the horse Ellayna panicked at. The rider, blue as well, lacked a head. He moved like any other man atop his mount, seemingly unaware that he was without a head. If he had a head, she could have sworn from the way his torso was twisted that he was looking directly at Ellayna. 

“Farkas,” she mumbled, thudding him on the ribs as she pushed herself from his embrace. “Farkas. Tell me I’m not dreaming.” 

The horseman stayed where he was, his mount chewing the bit in its mouth idly. 

“Farkas–” Ellayna’s plea was cut short but Farkas’ swearing. Apparently both of them being awake and aware of him was what the horseman wanted. He pulled on his reins, urging his steed away through the trees. “Get up,” Ellayna grappled at her lover. “I’m following him.” 

“Pu–” It took Farkas a moment to register. “You’re what?” 

The naked Ellayna stood, finding her clothes. Hurriedly she pulled them on. “Don’t be boring. It’s not every day you see a ghostly headless rider. He was watching us. I have to follow him.” 

Farkas stretched, stretching his hands skyward and arching his back. “I’m coming too, puppy.” 

“Hurry up,” she threw his trousers at him, satisfied as they startled him. “We’ll lose him otherwise.” 

Within minutes they were tracking this horseman. His mount left no tracks in the dirt, leaving them only with the vague direction the rider went it as guidance. The next time the horseman was spotted was by Farkas. The horseman seemed to wait for them, turning and continuing riding once he had been seen. Now that they had him in sighs, Ellayna and Farkas began to run after him. Soon they became breathless, laughing at each other wildly like it was some game. The only light they had was from the huge moon and the greens and blue of the auroras above. At some point during this chase, it became less about the horseman and more about the way the night air felt in their lungs, about how they teased each other with glances and giggles as they ran. 

They did not look where they ran. Once the horseman was gone again, there was something else ahead of them. Neither Ellayna nor Farkas thought to stop themselves. They emerged from a thicket of trees to a very Imperial camp. Tents of leather were placed in a circle around one large campfire. The guards positioned at the entrance of this circle drew their weapons as soon as the lover emerged. The largest of the tents, someone appeared before the flaps for doors just as Ellayna and Farkas stopped. The stature and grim expression gave him away instantaneously. His hands were clasped behind his back and he looked around as though nothing more important than an insect had disturbed him. The eyes of General Tullius swept the camp only to fix on Ellayna. They widened for a moment in realization. 

“Run,” Ellayna breathlessly told Farkas as they backed away. “Run.”


	16. Whore

There is nothing so simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying as to run at full speed as someone gave chase. Their lungs burned, their breaths came raggedly, their heats pounded in their chests, their feet thudding against the ground. Their thighs and carves felt like they were on fire yet they kept running. It was a miracle neither of them broke their ankles on the stones or roots littering the shadowy ground. 

The sounds of pursuit faded but they did not stop. Ellayna and Farkas did not know how far they had run when they finally came to a halt, turning a corner and entering a rocky cove. Ellayna fell against one of the rocks, struggling to breathe. She had never cared for running and was ready to collapse, legs feeling as though they were about to give way. Farkas doubled cover, hands on his knees, his chest and shoulders heaving. It almost amazed Ellayna that he had followed her cry without objection or question. He ran from the Imperials with her without even batting an eyelid. 

After a few minutes of recovering, Farkas righted himself. “Was that General Tullius?” He asked, winded. 

“That was,” it pained her to admit it but she would be damned if she would lie to him after that. “I think he would have tried to capture me.” 

“Why?” 

Ellayna took a deep breath in, heart still racing in her chest. “Do you know why I was at Helgen when the dragon attack happened?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Tullius paid for me to travel with him whenever he had to leave Solitude,” she licked her lips, trying to phrase it in the right way. “He liked my company far more than I could even stand his presence, but he paid well and I never saw him until the evenings. For the first while of this… arrangement, it was fine. Then he began to get nasty. Abusive, really. One day I decided I had enough, and left. I took what he coin he owed me and some that he didn’t and left in the night.” 

Farkas waited for her reply patiently. In the dark she could see his face was flushed from running but he had no resentment in his expression. 

She looked down at her feet. “A guard caught me trying to leave. Dragged me back to Tullius. Then Tullius claimed that all of the coin I had was stolen, and that I had more hidden on my person. It was a lie but none of his men cared. That bastard was so ashamed that I tried to leave him he just wanted me gone. I was a prisoner for two days before we reached Helgen. If the execution hadn’t been interrupted, I’d be dead because of him.” 

Slowly Farkas nodded. He approached her cautiously, his question a small mumble, “How much did you take, puppy?” 

“Five hundred septims were mine rightfully, and the other fifty weren’t.” 

“That is not enough to warrant execution.” 

It wasn’t about the coin. It was never about the coin for the men. Tullius felt small after she left and wanted a way of feeling powerful again. For those with authority there is no better way to feel controlling than by execution. If Tullius had his way, Ellayna would be without a head. “He might search for me,” she told Farkas. “I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds me.” 

“He won’t find you.” That sounded very much like a vow to protect her. 

Ellayna looked about where they stood. To one side was the rocky chasm that led down to the river. Dragon Bridge was not in sight but at least they had a way of finding the town. To their other side was the woods which they had just ran through. At their back was the rocky outcrop. She felt very trapped in that moment, like a mouse with nowhere to run but a cat’s jaws. She gave a loud exhale, feeling a lump form in her throat. “I don’t know what to do.” She slid down the outcrop until she was sitting, then pulled her knees to her chest. The sweat on her skin was cooling and the cold was beginning to creep into her bones. She watched Farkas pace for a few moments, then he looked at her. 

“We ran northward.” 

“How do you know?” 

He shrugged. “I just do, pup. Trust me.” 

It probably had something to do with the beast blood. Ellayna gave a sniffle. “So what do we do now?” 

“We can’t go anywhere in the dark.” He joined her, at first sitting so he did not touch her. Slowly he inched closer, and soon they shared their body heat against the cold. Both of them dozed on and off but neither got true sleep. Even without the possibility of Tullius’ soldiers nearby, the cold was too much on their bodies to allow for sleep. As soon as dawn’s very first light came, Farkas rose to his feet. He helped Ellayna to her feet, then they began in the direction Farkas believed Dragon Bridge was. They walked quickly, trying to warm themselves against the frost the feet crunched against. 

It felt like an entire day passed before they saw the town, but in actuality it had only been a few hours. Instead of going into Dragon Bridge they tried to retrace their steps from the previous day, to find the little lover’s nest they had made. 

Evidently the Imperials had found it and not the lovers who had made it. The bedding was tossed about and everything else was strewn in all directions. Nothing appeared to be stolen, merely callously kicked and trifled through. Ellayna insisted they did not spend too long in this place and immediately went to gather their belongings. 

“I’m sorry this happened,” Ellayna apologized softly. 

“It doesn’t matter, pup. I just want to get out of this area without General Tullius finding you.” 

It seemed to always be about her. She was beginning to hate it. Part of her wanted Farkas to be angry, to chastise and yell at her for everything bad she had gotten him into. It wasn’t in his nature, it would never happen. He kept avoiding placing the blame, even though the fault for unfortunate things happening was all Ellayna’s. At that stage she was not fully sure that he knew she was to blame. 

Once all of their belongings were packed they began back to Dragon Bridge. It was uneventful and they talked about nothing and anything as they walked. No Imperials could be seen and they collected their horses without anyone opposing them. There was no time wasted in leaving Dragon Bridge after that. Mutually they decided to get as far as they could from the area in the shortest time possible. 

Both Butter and Freckles were hardy horses and able to go for a long while at a quick pace. On flat land they galloped and during slopes just walked or trotted quickly. This didn’t pass time swiftly but it didn’t matter so long as they were away from the region. When late afternoon came a stream suitable for watering the exhausted mounts came into view. It was by pure ill-fortune that the exact people they had been avoiding were camped beside it. This Ellayna and Farkas did not realize until it was too late. 

Shouts came from the Imperial camp. The horses whinnied as they slid to a halt, seeing guards running toward them. Farkas managed to force Freckles around to escape. When Ellayna tried to do so Butter stumbled and panicked. The guards were suddenly with them, reaching up to grab at Ellayna. Someone tried to take Butter’s reins. Butter screamed and reared, kicking her front legs into the air and struggling to keep her balance. One of the Imperial guards seized Ellayna as she tumbled from the saddle. Another one helped him as they hauled her away, resisting her thrashing and fighting purely by their physical strength over her. Her feet dragged painfully and she tried to turn her head back, wailing Farkas’ name as loudly as her lungs allowed. The lump formed again in her throat and she squirmed painfully against the grips of the Imperials. Barely, out of the corner of her vision, she could see Farkas turn Freckles back toward them. 

The Imperials seemed not to care as they dragged her back to their camp. More soldiers emerged from tents and rose from where they sat to investigate. Ellayna turned her back to where Farkas was, unable to look at the soldiers’ faces. 

Farkas vaulted from Freckles’ back. There was a deadly sternness to Farkas’ gaze. He said nothing, easily overtaking the Imperials who had Ellayna. He turned back and did something that gave Ellayna as much of a fright as it did the soldiers. His fist collided squarely with the Imperial’s jaw. Ellayna ducked as the other elbow swung over her, smashing into the side of the other soldier’s head. Abruptly freed, Ellayna was wide-eyed as she stumbled away from them. Fearing any of the other Imperials, she spinelessly hid behind Farkas, putting her bulk before her almost as a shield. 

“You are defy the law,” a voice spoke out. Ellayna wanted to be sick when she heard Tullius, knowing his voice instantly. “This woman is a criminal.” 

“She’s no such thing,” Farkas defended her tersely. She felt his hand against her thigh, pushing her gently as a signal to stay behind him. 

“To help a criminal is an unlawful offense. This woman is a thieving whore who escaped execution. She must be punished for what she has done,” Tullius was infuriatingly calm. 

“I am a Companion,” Farkas announced. “Ellayna is also a Companion. I stood witness to her and swore that I would raise my sword to her honor. I will do that. Please let us leave.” 

“I cannot let a criminal escape, Companion or not.” 

Although Ellayna could not see passed Farkas, she heard a scuffle and the sound of swords being pulled from their scabbards. She heard Farkas’ breathing fasten. “If you execute her, you will be executing the Dragonborn.” 

The laugh Tullius gave was a bitter bark of dry humor. “Dragonborn? You claim to be a Companion yet you so brazenly lie to me. What a Companion you are.” 

Farkas tensed. She had never heard him use such a dead serious tone. “I swear on my honor as a Companion that Ellayna is the Dragonborn.” 

There were footsteps and Tullius was louder now. “You honor. Let me see her, at least.” 

Farkas looked back at her, clearly wondering what she would do. Taking his big hand in both of hers, Ellayna stepped into view. Tullius wore his Imperial armor, his close cropped hair greying more than she recalled. The lines around his eyes and mouth reminded her of his age. 

“You’re shaking like leaf, sweetheart,” Tullius smiled, sickeningly kind. “Is something wrong?” 

“You tried to have me killed,” Ellayna spat, words quivering more than she wanted. “My head was on the chopping block, my skin against the last man’s warm blood. I could see the axe about to kill me.” 

“What a shame. That was your punishment for leaving me.” 

Ellayna laughed, tears coming to her eyes. “More like a punishment for hurting your pride. You’re a sick bastard and I couldn’t spend another night with you.” 

That got to him. The muscles in his neck hardened and his jaw clenched. Men like him, ones who strove for power, found offense in any criticism to their manhood. Tullius calmed himself again, smiling. “I should have your head off right here, sweetheart, for that comment. Whores like you shouldn’t care.” 

Farkas stepped forward but Ellayna’s grip stopped him. “He’s not worth it,” she murmured to him. 

“You’re not a whore,” Farkas growled through his teeth. 

“I was then, I’m not now.” 

“Aren’t you?” Tullius said before Farkas could reply. “People like you don’t move on from easy money.” 

There was an audible snarl. It was certainly not human and came from Farkas. “Tullius,” Ellayna nearly begged. If they saw Farkas’ beast form, they would most definitely kill him. Assuming they could kill him and that he did not tear apart every single one of them. “Please, let us leave. I am the Dragonborn, and I did not do enough to deserve execution.” 

Tullius locked eyes with Farkas. “I will let you leave, then. I enjoy hearing you beg again. I hope, Companion, you enjoy her as much as I did, and that she leaves you in a way that is as cruel.” 

“Farkas,” Ellayna tugged at his hand, eager to leave. “Please, let’s go.” 

He said nothing but did not resist. They mounted their spooked horses, the left as swiftly as they could. It was not long until they were forced to stop again, the sun abandoning them to the dark of the night. Ellayna almost fell from Butter’s saddle, her legs trembling. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. That entire encounter was too close. Too close to Tullius, too close to another attempted execution. 

Farkas stood before her in a moment, his hands on her shoulders. Before he could speak she mumbled, “Were you really going to fight them for me?” 

“Of course I was, puppy.” 

She burst into tears, overwhelmed. He touched his forehead to hers, then pressed his lips to that place. Then he pulled her to him, becoming some place comforting for her. In that moment that was exactly what she needed.


	17. Contempt

The rest of the way back from Dragon Bridge to Whiterun, there was little to no trouble. A thief decided to see what they had in their saddlebags at one stage, but one look at Farkas sent him running for the hills. Ellayna had teased him for the rest of the day. “Oh Mighty Nord,” she called him, grinning, “The Frightener of Thieves, the Broad-shouldered Wolf.” 

At one stage he had grumbled, “You could come up with better names, pup.” 

“That would defeat the point in teasing you.” 

The rest of the travels had been blissfully uneventful. Despite that, Ellayna was constantly aware of them creeping closer to her next confrontation with a Companion. She believed that there was no possible way for her to be more fed up with snide comments and muttered sneers. She cared not that Athis and Vilkas hated her so much, but her chest still ached when she thought how she had lost the respect of almost every other Companion due to her past. 

Butter and Freckles were left at Whiterun stables, in the capable hands of the master of the stables. Ellayna had her fingers entwined with Farkas’ as they walked the pathway up to Whiterun. She managed to smile at the citizens they passed once they were inside the city, but her jaw clenched and her stomach turned at the sight of Jorrvaskr’s doors. She was beginning to dislike the place. No, dislike was too light. She hated Jorrvaskr. She hated what lay within its walls and the fear attached to the very thought of it. Her nose ached where Athis had broken it at remembering the so-far worst thing to happen there. 

What everyone’s true reaction to Ellayna returning was, she did not know. When she and Farkas entered the hall, everyone fell silent. And it was everyone. Kodlak was the reason why. He may have been an aging man, but there was no power lost in his eyes. His gaze swept the mead hall and anyone who would have spoken up was silenced. “Welcome back,” Kodlak was the only one who looked at them, and gave them a nod. “Did you complete your job?” 

“We did,” Farkas stood at the top of the stairs that led down to the middle piece of the hall. Ellayna was more behind him than beside him, hiding more than she was willing to admit. “Why is everyone in here?” 

Skjor snorted, the first of the other Companions to gain his voice. “Carrier birds travel faster than horses.” 

“I’ve had word from General Tullius,” Kodlak went expressionless. “He has accused me of harboring a criminal.” 

Farkas glanced back at Ellayna. When it became obvious that she was keeping her mouth closed, he answered for her. “We had a run-in with him.” 

Vilkas laughed. “Apparently you swore on your honor as a Companion. Do we mean that little to you, brother?”

“The Companions mean more than anything to me, which was why I was willing to swear on that for Ellayna,” Farkas struggled to contain his anger. “Why can’t the rest of you just understand?” 

“Ellayna,” Kodlak spoke passed Farkas. “What will you do in regards to General Tullius?” 

She had an idea, but preferred to follow that through in private. “Did he make threats?” 

“He implied taking you away for punishment. Does that change your thoughts on the matter?” 

“No.” 

“Good, good. Everyone,” Kodlak rose to his feet. “I would have Ellayna given no more trouble. Is that understood?” Those eyes of his went to Vilkas and Athis, sitting side by side. Athis nodded begrudgingly and Vilkas followed his lead. They were lying about that, most likely. Kodlak left the mead hall then, and an uncomfortable silence fell. 

Ellayna touched Farkas’ arm then walked passed him. He knew she just wanted to be away from there. Avoiding going down to the space near the table, she hurried around the top and then down the stairs leading into the sleeping quarters. The silence held until she closed the doors. Murmurs came then, slowly louder. She stood for a number of minutes, listening to the wordless din of conversation. She felt hollow, knowing they only spoke because she left. Never in her life had she felt like more of a pariah. 

She sulk to her and Farkas’ chambers. There she found what remained of her last allowance from Ulfric and began counting. There was only three hundred and twenty septims there, not enough for what she planned. She gathered all of that coin into one satchel, then put it back with her few belongings. Then she began her wait for Farkas to join her. Sitting on his bed pallet, she tried to entertain herself by braiding her hair. Being only shoulder length, the braids did not stay but it provided some amusement. Farkas seemed to be taking an awfully long time. He was most likely talking to the other Companions; she had to remind herself that they were still his friends, his family in either blood or bonds. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened so quietly that at first she did not notice. She heard something be placed down with a small thud and as she turned to investigate, hands went over her face. Standing behind her, Farkas had one hand over her eyes and the other on her shoulder. “I got you something, puppy,” he mumbled, pleased with himself. 

Ellayna tried not to smile. “Oh? And what would that be?” 

He removed his hand and gestured to the bench. There a fat candle sat, pale in colour and unused. Ellayna stood and moved toward it, then took it in her hands and smelt it. “Honeysuckle,” she smiled. “You got me a honeysuckle candle. Can I ask why?” 

“It’s a happy smell.” 

“What?” She blurted that without meaning to. After a moment, she put the candle back down. “Define a ‘happy smell’?”

“You smiled at it, so it has to be a happy smell, pup,” Farkas looked down at the floor. “I don’t want you to keep being sad. Don’t say you’re not either; sometimes you laugh but don’t mean it.” 

She sat back on the side of the bed, and he sat down beside her, almost touching but not quite. “That’s true, I won’t deny it,” Ellayna sighed. “You’re so very nice to me, Farkas.” When he did not reply, she elbowed his arm. “Thank you for the candle.” 

He perked up at that. “I can go get a taper to light–” His words were cut off by Ellayna throwing the smallest of fireballs. She was lucky it hit the wick and stayed lit. 

Smugly she leaned back on her two elbows and smirked. “Who needs a taper when you have magic?” 

Farkas stared blankly at the little flame for a moment, then grinned. He moved from sitting to kneeling and brought her knees up around his hips, then lent forward to kiss her. 

***

Ellayna waited for Farkas to be sleepy and lax to ask about the money from the job. After she did, he yawned when he tried to answer, then managed to say, “You get a hundred septims from it, pup.” 

“Damn, that’s not enough.” 

That caught Farkas’ attention. He woke a little more then, looking at her worriedly. “I thought you had your allowance from Ulfric to use.” 

“I need the money now, I can’t wait for the next courier to bring my next allowance.” 

Farkas looked at her seriously and she could not meet his gaze, keeping her eyes up on the ceiling instead. “Puppy, what’s this for?” 

“I planned to pay Tullius what he claims I stole.” 

“How much more do you need?” He asked immediately. 

“One hundred and thirty septims. I don’t want you to pay for it, Farkas.” 

“What if I want to pay it?” He moved to where he could lean up on his elbows and look over her. “I have the coin and I want to do this for you.” 

One part of Ellayna wanted to object and the other wanted to weep and thank him. She nodded, knowing that the sooner she got this done the better off she would be. Whether or not Tullius would accept her coin was irrelevant; the point was the act. She was giving the coin back, admitting her wrongs even if most of it had been rightfully hers. 

Farkas fell asleep before she did. For a long while, Ellayna just lay there. When she finally drifted asleep, it felt as though she slipped into her usual nightmare immediately. It was no surprise she woke after the nightmare was over. She was sick of seeing the seven thousand steps leading up to High Hrothgar and fed up with being plagued in her sleep. As soon as she was slumbering again, the nightmare came back to haunt. Twice more she vainly tried to sleep. In the small hours of the morning she stayed awake, giving up with her futile attempts to sleep. 

Once Farkas was awake, Ellayna removed herself from the bedding and dressed. She found her satchel of coin and waited for Farkas to get up to gather the rest. He tried not to fret over how she had scarcely slept and did a terrible job of not pestering her about it. She found his concern endearing but was irritated by it nevertheless, telling him there was nothing that could be done about it. They both knew that was a lie. Ellayna could complete the march up to High Hrothgar, to visit the Greybeards who had summoned her when she had killed her first dragon. Doing that, however, would mostly likely involve her leaving the Companions and venturing out on her own. 

Farkas gave Ellayna the coin from the job and then the rest of what she would need. Together they made their way up to Dragonsreach and located a courier. Ellayna managed to persuade him into taking the satchel immediately to General Tullius and to not open it. She was relying on the word of a courier to make her seem genuine. There was nothing she could do save trust the man. 

As they made their way back down the steps, toward the yard where the Gildergreen loomed over them, it was remarkably peaceful. Heimskr had not risen to begin his daily preaching yet, and no other residents of Whiterun had emerged from their houses. Ellayna stopped before the Gildergreen, gazing up the steps to Jorrvaskr with thought. She felt ill at the sight of it. Farkas stopped beside her, following her gaze up to his home. 

“I think that I will have to leave this place,” she stated, almost as if to herself.

“What? You don’t have to do anything pup,” Farkas was panicked. “Don’t listen to what anyone says to you. You’re not a criminal and not a whore.” He had gotten so used to defending her to others and to herself. 

Farkas knew what she knew. If she left, he would stay. This was his home after all, despite Ellayna’s contempt for it. If Ellayna chose to leave, she would not only be leaving the Companions but also her lover. “I know, Farkas, but the truth is I don’t belong here.” According to her nightmares, she belonged in High Hrothgar, to be led like a tethered goat into the unknown.


	18. Leave Your Lover

Ellayna and Farkas were completely aware of the decision she had come to. That awareness seeped into their lives for the next ten days, changing the way they moved and spoke. Often Farkas just looked at her, and all she could do was sigh or smile knowingly at him. He knew she had to leave him and she knew she was cause pain to him. Part of Ellayna regretting becoming Farkas’ lover if their parting would hurt him so, yet the other half still had no regrets. She adored Farkas as much as he adored her and there was no denying that. He had turned into her little place of joy. 

The day before she left, Ellayna went to Kodlak’s door. She lifted her hand to knock, then pulled away, reconsidering her actions. Then a voice said called out for her to enter and she jumped. Cautiously she opened the doors, making sure they were closed again before she stepped forward. “I’m certain I didn’t say anything,” Ellayna remarked, hugging herself and lingering some distance from Kodlak. 

“I heard your steps. Come, sit,” Kodlak gestured to the chair opposite his own and raised his eyebrows when Ellayna shook his head. “Oh?” 

“I will not stay long. I need you to tell Ulfric something.”

“You do have access to pen and paper and coin for a courier, do you not?” 

“I do, but this will sound better coming from you. Inform him that I will be leaving the Companions,” Ellayna held her hand out for him to wait as he began to object. “Say that you think this is a good idea, as tomorrow I will be leaving to High Hrothgar to train in the Way of the Voice. You can write the truth when you say I am better suited to wielding magic than steel.” 

Kodlak exhaled loudly, considering this. “I cannot persuade you out of it this time.” 

“You can’t, no.” 

“Then tell me this,” Kodlak’s silver eyes narrowed. “Do you still strive for what I made clear for you?” 

“Have I not redeemed myself already?” Ellayna snorted in contempt. “I paid General Tullius, even though he was who used to pay me.” 

Kodlak slipped into expressionlessness. “You don’t fully understand, but I suppose that can’t be helped. I will send that missive to Ulfric. What of Farkas?”

Ellayna looked at the ground and murmured, “I don’t want to leave him.” 

“But you must,” he concluded gravely. “It’s a shame, he’s come to care for you very deeply.” 

“You’re not making this any easier.” 

“He loves you, you must see that. I have talked to him about you, but that wasn’t needed to know how he feels. He missed you very much when you went away for those couple of weeks.” 

She stayed silent, shoulders tensed. “Are you finished?”

“I can’t talk you out of it this time, so yes, I am finished.” 

Ellayna felt odd turning away from him but did not hesitate. A small section of her was disappointed he had not tried harder to make her stay. It was final now. She was leaving the Companions. Despite the heaven and hell this place had put her though, it saddened her. 

She entered Farkas’ chambers, treading lightly. He faced away from her, looking down at the satchels and saddlebags Ellayna would be using to carry her possessions. Gently, like he was made of glass, Ellayna slipped her arms around his shoulders and rest her chin on the top of his head. It would be their last night together and both of them were, like they had been for days, too aware of this fact. No amount of ignoring or pretending could make their melancholy leave. 

All of Ellayna’s bags contain her few belongings easily. Farkas had given her extra coin of his own, which initially she had refused. He kept insisting, saying that she should take them in case she needed them for whatever reason. Reluctantly she had given in, and even if she hadn’t, Farkas probably would have slipped them into one of the satchels anyway. 

It was a relief that none of the other Companions were in the mead hall yet. Without words, Ellayna and Farkas went hand in hand through Jorrvaskr. They still gripped each other as they walked through Whiterun’s center, oblivious to both the cold and the glances they got from passersby. 

It was only after they reached the stables and Butter was readied that Ellayna turned to Farkas. A lack of words was not usual for her yet she was speechless. Instead speaking she put her arms around his neck. In response his arms went around her waist and they clung to each other. He kissed the side of her head and mumbled, “I’ll miss you, puppy.” There was a tingle in her nose and a familiar lump in her throat upon hearing that. Ellayna just nodded, her face pressed against his shoulder and neck. They parted ever so slightly and shared a lingering kiss. Averting her eyes and turning away, Ellayna pulled herself away from him and went to where a lad held butter in place. Mounting her mare, Ellayna looked back at Farkas standing alone on the frosty road. She smiled at him, then kicked Butter into an immediate gallop. She did not look back at the city and the lover she was leaving. 

[-X-]

Farkas watched Ellayna ride away until the image of her was obstructed by distance. He wished uselessly that he had gotten to spend more time with her. There was no one else he had met who was like her. She was melancholic but when she truly laughed, it was a sound like heaven. She had a way of teasing and sneering that made him smile. She was simultaneously adoring of him and mysterious to him. Ellayna had bared herself to him when he found out about her past, but there was still so much that he did not know. Farkas knew about her secrets and felt guilty that he had never told her about his. He was not even sure where to begin with that. He had never been able to form words to describe his and Vilkas’ relationship. 

He walked back to Whiterun and up to Jorrvaskr. What he would do with himself for the rest of the day, he was not sure. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep. 

Jorrvaskr had woken up since they left. Nobody spoke to him. They all knew Ellayna was gone. They were probably glad and knew better to mention her to him. It was only when he got all of the way down to his chambers did someone actually want to speak with him. Vilkas was waiting in his twin’s chambers, smiling merrily. 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Farkas snapped, frustrated that he sounded more weary than angry. 

“But I want to talk to you, now that whore is gone.”

Farkas was too drained to yell at him. He just stood there instead, waiting for Vilkas to leave. Vilkas had another idea. He stepped to Farkas, the corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk. “How that she’s gone, we can finally have a little fun…” 

Grunting, Farkas tried to move away from him. Vilkas grabbed him from behind and Farkas snapped. He whipped around, hand instinctively going to Vilkas’ throat. His grip was not firm enough to do any sort of harm but was abrupt enough to startle. “I’m sick of this, Vil,” Farkas mumbled with defeat, stepping forward to make Vilkas step backward toward the door. “I’m sick of everything you put me through. You’re my brother. My brother who made me lose my lover.” 

Farkas only applied a little bit of pressure to make Vilkas stumble backwards, but Vilkas fell straight on his ass. He yelped, grimacing. 

“Go see Athis if you’re lusting,” Farkas growled, “Just leave me alone.” 

He slammed his door, then took a chair to brace the door against Vilkas’ attempts to get back in. For a while Vilkas begged, saying he was sorry and banging against the door. He sounded like a keening hound. Eventually he left, sulking. He didn’t understand. Farkas had listened to it all before, Vilkas saying he was sorry. Now more than ever, it just made Farkas wearier. As his longing for Ellayna grew, his frustration with Vilkas lessened. Lying down, Farkas wondered whether or not he would see Ellayna again. He hoped for it, but there was a fleck of doubt he couldn’t escape. For now, all he could do was remember the good nights, the giggles, the whispers and the smiles.


	19. Two Long Years

Two years suddenly felt like a very long time. Ellayna thought back and what she had achieved since she left the Companions as she watched the prow of the ship cut through the sea. She traveled from Solstheim, where she had been for months dealing with Miraak and the cultists, to Windhelm, where she was to report to Ulfric. After leaving the Companions, she had dragged her heavy heart up to High Hrothgar to train with the Greybeards. It was challenging, but her natural gift for magic made it slightly easier. Once that was done and she had met Paarthurnax, she was Ulfric’s to send where he pleased. For over a year she did quests as he bade, helping the Stormcloak rebellion. She lost count of how many Imperials she had killed. The Emperor and the Imperials did not have her love, but how much blood she had spilt never failed to sadden her. Occasionally, she would go up to the Collage of Winterhold just to be away from the killing and be in a place where her magic was not frowned upon. 

Windhelm came into sight above the rocky cliff. Ellayna caught her breath, very much wanting to order the captain of the ship back to Solstheim. She knew she could not. Ulfric had only given her so much leave from her duties to him and that was because he saw the Cultists as much of a threat as she did. Feeling her anxiety rise, Ellayna did as Paarthurnax often told her; Su’um ahrk morah. Breath and focus. 

The ship docked at the port just before the bridge leading into Windhelm. Ellayna gathered her few possessions and leapt onto the dock before the ship could be tethered, pleased to be back on dry land. Her nausea from the sea had been slowly rising and she felt nothing but relief to no longer be swaying. She let her legs carry her reluctant body up into Windhelm, and once inside the city, automatically take her to Ulfric. 

The Stormcloaks knew to allow her into the Palace of the King immediately. Every other time she had strode through one of those towering doors, she had been greeted by the sight of Ulfric reclined back on his dull Jarl’s chair that looked more like a throne. This time it was not the case. She was briefly confused as to why Ulfric was absent, but his steward Jorleif caught her eye and pointed to the door on the left of where Ulfric usually was. Ellayna did not hesitate as she went through the door, only to find Ulfric and Galmar hunched over a table, snarling at each other. On the table a detailed map of Skyrim with little coloured flags specifying where Stormcloak and Imperial forces were positioned. 

“We will ask Ellayna, then,” Ulfric hissed through his teeth, glancing only briefly at the Dragonborn. He was leaning his palms down on the table and had his body leaning over the table, his face reddened with annoyance. “Should we attack Whiterun?” 

“Whiterun?” Ellayna did her best not to have her jaw hanging slack like a fool. 

“Yes, that is what I said, pay attention.” 

“Why Whiterun?” She wanted to persuade him otherwise. “Surely there are better places to lay siege to.” 

Ulfric was running out of patience. “The other jarls have noted that I now have the Jagged Crown, and the Imperials are getting very cozy with Whiterun. If Jarl Balgruuf is truly going to side with the Imperials, we can’t allow it.” 

“Balgruuf hasn’t chosen one or the other.” 

“I will make him chose,” he unsheathed an axe that had been sitting on his hip. There was nothing special about it; finely made but otherwise insignificant. “He will know what it implies. Go, away with you. The sooner this is done the better.” 

Ellayna took the axe, wondering how something so unimportant could decide the fate between life and death. She gave a glance to Galmar, who gave her a reassuring nod. Despite how rude and harsh he had been in the beginning, Galmar had warmed up to Ellayna. He would never admit it, though. 

She went straight from the Palace of the Kings to the stables. While Butter was being properly readied, Ellayna paced the snow covered ground. Whiterun. Her issue was not only that she did not want to go the city again after purposely avoiding it for two years, but that she also hated the idea that she was bringing death to them. Balgruuf would not side with Ulfric. That had always been obvious. She would take the axe to Balgruuf and he will chose to deny Ulfric. Then Whiterun will be stormed and so many people will lose their lives. Ulfric will make Ellayna help. A thought occurred to her that the Companions may fight and suddenly she felt like she was going to throw up there in the snow. It was true they did not pick sides, but it was likely they would want to protect their home. The idea of facing Farkas on a battle field tormented her. 

Once she was mounted on Butter and was steering her faithful mare in the right direction, she wondered whether or not she would see Farkas again. Did she have enough courage? She had thought of him often in the beginning when she left, then slowly less and less. Her occasional thought of him still caused her pain. Life fighting and killing and traveling had turned out to be more difficult than being a prostitute or being in the Companions. When things got too tough, back in Jorrvaskr with Farkas was where she wished to be. She wished she had never left him. If there was one regret she would carry to the grave, it was that.

[-X-]

Ria and Njada trained with Vilkas in the yard. Farkas watched them keenly, seeing if there were any mistakes he could point out. The two women were of opposite personalities, and recently their lack of cooperation had ruined a job they were sent to do together. When they returned, both injured and battered, Skjor ordered that they learn how to fight together. Currently they tried to fight Vilkas, all of them equipped with swords. Farkas sat on the steps, elbow on his knee and chin in his palm, studying their movements. “Njada,” he pointed out gently, “Try watching Vilkas more than Ria. Focus on him and only half pay attention to her. You’ll both fill in for whatever mistakes the other makes and keep Vilkas on his toes.”

“Thank you, brother,” Vilkas hissed, sweating already. Whether the two women could not work together or not, they were both skilled fighters and keep up with two at once was straining Vilkas. 

Farkas felt the presence of Aela and Skjor before he saw them. They came from the Underforge, and he faintly smelt blood. The beast blood let him smell that, and he knew the two had been hunting. It was not game they killed. No, he could smell human blood. Silver-hand. 

“Farkas, Vilkas, with us. Athis, take over training.” Skjor bellowed his order. Neither he nor Aela halted as they went immediately for the doors of Jorrvaskr. Athis, who had been sitting in the shade of the back walls, stood and took the sword Vilkas gave him. Farkas shrugged in reply to Vilkas mouthing, “What’s happened?” 

They followed Skjor and Aela all of the way down to Skjor chambers. Behind them, they door was bolted shut. Farkas stood awkwardly before them while Vilkas crossed his arms over his chest and snarled. “I smell blood.” 

“We’ve been doing more hunting,” Aela was almost proud of their exploits. “And one of them told us what they were planning.” 

Vilkas was still unimpressed. “What? To massacre our kind?” 

There was a growl in Skjor voice as he spoke. “They are wanting to strike us here, in Whiterun.” 

“How?” Farkas was beside himself. Surely they wouldn’t. Not even the Silver-hand were that foolish. The Whiterun guards would help the members of the circle, and so would other Companions without the blood. From a Silver-hand point of view, invading Whiterun was the worst possible thing to do. So why would they even attempt it? 

“We don’t yet know,” Aela nodded gravely with her words. “But when we do, we will stop it.” 

“The Silver-hand are nothing but bastards and milk-drinkers,” Skjor announced, standing straighter. “They are cowards, they are weak. We will get the better of them.” 

“There are only four of us,” Vilkas reminded them tersely. “And Kodlak is ill.” 

All fell silent at the reminder of their harbinger’s condition. He was more old than ill. His bones no longer wanted to support him and it took him great effort to breathe. Most of the time he was abed and could not leave his room. Tilma cared for him constantly and often shooed everyone else out to let him get his rest. 

Skjor cleared his throat. “Kodlak has declared that I will be Harbinger when he passes from this world. When this happens, we will have another Companion join the circle and we will again have five in our pack.” 

“Will this person be Athis?” 

Aela and Skjor exchanged a look of apprehension. “Having two mates in the Circle, while we are battling for our lives, will not be a good idea,” Aela explained carefully with narrowed eyes.

Vilkas scoffed. “We’re hardly mates just because we fuck.” 

“Still, Aela’s not wrong,” Skjor frowned. “I will think on the matter. Once begun, it’s something they cannot go back on. They must be perfect for it.” 

Farkas couldn’t help but think how much of a person werewolf Ellayna would have been. He could imagine her with the beast blood. It would have suited her like she was born for it.

Vilkas nudged Farkas and he came from his day dreaming. His brother was leaving. Farkas nodded to Skjor and Aela then left with him, quietly shutting the door behind himself. He could tell immediately Vilkas was seething. “I can’t believe they talked about Kodlak’s death like that. He’s not in the ground yet.” 

“He’s very fragile, Vil.” 

“There’s a difference between fragile and dead,” Vilkas snapped. “And they’re going to deny Athis an incredible opportunity just because he sometimes visits my bed!” 

“I can see their reasoning,” Farkas offered quietly. “If one of you is hurt, it could distress the other into doing something unwise.” 

He scoffed again and shook his head. “He would be good with the beast blood.” 

_He would be violent with the blood._ Farkas did not say that aloud. Instead he just walked passed his brother to his chambers. He heard Vilkas step to follow him, then decide against it. That relieved Farkas. 

For a while, he hung around his chambers. When he began to become bored, he decided to go see how Kodlak was. Tilma let him into the Harbinger’s rooms immediately. Farkas was happily surprised to find Kodlak sitting up in his bed, sipping at broth which had been placed on a tray in his lap. 

“My boy,” the old man smiled. “What can I do for you this time?” 

“This time?” Farkas pulled a chair from the main chamber into Kodlak’s bedchambers, positioning it beside the bed. 

Kodlak looked unfocused. “You were just here, Farkas.” 

Farkas glanced at Tilma, who was leaning in the bedchambers doorway and biting her thumbnail. “I wasn’t,” Farkas told Kodlak tenderly. “But that’s alright.” 

After hesitating, Kodlak nodded. “Ah, there’s something I’d like you to take.” He reached to his side and picked up a folded piece of paper. It was sealed with red wax and the symbol of Whiterun. “Next time you see her, give this to Ellayna.” 

Farkas froze, not taking the letter when Kodlak held it to him. How far had Kodlak’s mind slipped? Did he truly think it was two years ago, before Ellayna had left. “She has not been here for a long time,” Farkas said carefully. “She left us.”

“I know that, Farkas. But you will see her again. Take it.” 

Cautiously he took it, feeling the clearly expensive paper beneath his fingertips. “She left. How do you know I will see her again?” 

“I just know.” 

He gave a nod as he leaned back slightly, holding the letter like it was made of glass. “Why don’t you just send it to her with a courier?” 

“There is a time and a place for that letter, Farkas, and you are key to it all being correct.” 

“I don’t understand,” he admitted plainly. He was not the most intelligent person but Kodlak was simply not making sense. 

Kodlak grunted as he rested back slightly, his meal forgotten. He lay his hand palm up on the side of the bed. “You do not need to.” 

Farkas lightly lay his hand in Kodlak’s, feeling the old man’s thin skin and protruding bones. He did his best not to wince. 

“I never thought to see a man of your stature be gentler than anyone else I have met,” Kodlak smiled fondly. “You have always been like that. You have always been someone special.” 

Lacking words, Farkas just returned the smile. For a while they sat and talked, until Kodlak became tired and wished to sleep. Farkas decided then to sleep as well, wanting as much time of rest as his beast blood would allow. He could not get what Kodlak had said about Ellayna out of his head. He had heard all about her adventures across Skyrim, battling alongside the Stormcloaks, slaying dragons and fighting draugr. It was difficult to believe it was the same Ellayna, the woman he had cared so deeply for. She was the Dragonborn, famous throughout Skyrim and the rest of Tamriel. Yet in all of her adventures, she never once returned to Whiterun. 

After a night of barely sleeping, Farkas lay awake during the early hours of the morning. At first, what he heard sounded like someone being noisy while trying to be quiet. Then sounds of scuffling came, and the distant din of bellowing voices. A scream was clearer to hear. Farkas moved once he heard that, instantly wide awake. He took his sword and left his chambers. Vilkas had moved only a few seconds before he did, and they ran passed confused whelps. Inside the mead hall, the sounds were louder. Once outside Jorrvaskr and in the training yard, Farkas saw what he feared the most. He saw hunters, mercilessly after his kind. Murders with silver weapons. The Silver-hand had come to Whiterun.


	20. Harbinger

Having stayed the night in the Bannered Mare, Ellayna left at dawn for Dragonsreach. Her possessions were left in the room she had rented. Wearing her blue-green glass armor and carrying the axe Ulfric wished to give to Balgruuf, she quietly slipped from the inn. She hated her armor with a passion, but it was one of the few ways for her face to be concealed. Better that more people recognize her as the Dovahkiin by her armor instead of her face. 

She gave no gesture of recognition to the guards who acknowledged her on her way by. Jorrvaskr was not something she looked too long at when passing. She tried not to fidget too much with the bow slung over her shoulder and the quiver attached to her back. It was only for show here in Whiterun, she consoled herself. She need not use them today. It wasn’t until she reached the top of the stairs up to the castle that she discovered how wrong she was. 

Figures crept from the shadows of the cliff beneath the Skyforge and toward Jorrvaskr. Pausing, Ellayna watched them. They were not Companions. Through the dark, it was difficult to see exactly who they are as she squinted. Later she would regret wasting so much time staring like a fool. Some figures entered Jorrvaskr, while another dozen went around the ancient ship and down into the streets. Dozens of more figures were emerging from the shadows every moment. Alarm and horror coursed through Ellayna when one of the figures crept up behind a guard, held him close, and cut his throat. He fell limp to the ground. His attacker’s blade glittered silver in the dawn’s dim light. Not silver like steel, it was silver. 

Ellayna ran. She should have signaled for the ignorant guards standing before Dragonsreach’s twin doors to follow her, but she didn’t. Instead she soundlessly padded down the steps she had just climbed, awkwardly pulling her bow from her back. The string of the bow creaked as she hooked an arrow to it and drew it back. The guard’s murderer fell with a cry, the arrow lodged in his chest. 

Some of the Silver-hand had gone into a nearby house. Screams, shrill and panicked, rang out. That would alert guards and any other nords who would pick up their weapons and fight. The noise of footfall and shouts came from guards and soon the entire city would wake to an invasion. Another, different sound came from the other side of Jorrvaskr. Fighting. Metal ringing against metal. Ellayna bolted, leaving the guards to deal with the Silver-hand in the street. They would protect their citizens. 

The Silver-hand were guarding the side paths to the back of Jorrvaskr. No matter. Ellayna threw her bow back over her shoulder as she weaved through Silver-hand, avoiding them as there were too many to kill on her own. She leapt up onto the front doorway, ignoring the slurs and the insults from the fighters she passed. They wanted her to fight them. They wanted her blood. None of them had a bow and were clearly unwilling to follow her scale the building. Once on the roof, her bow was again her choice of weapon. She began to pick of Silver-hand. This became a problem once she nearly exhausted her supply of arrows. She had two left. Arrows had not been her largest concern when leaving the inn not long ago. 

Running out onto the roof that covered the deck jutting into the training yard, she looked down to see Companions fighting for their lives. They were swamped with Silver-hand. Vilkas and Athis were fighting together; Vilkas keeping them occupied while Athis snuck and killed sneakily. Ria and Njada had each other’s backs while they fought desperately, both panting. Arrows came from where the doors were –that was presumably Aela. Farkas fought by himself, growling like a wolf. This enraged the Silver-hand more. While Farkas was ending one of them, another Silver-hand tried to plunge a knife into his back. Ellayna used her second last arrow and in a moment had it jutting from the Silver-hand’s throat. Farkas gave a questioning look up to her, not knowing Ellayna through the armor. 

Shouldering her bow, she found her grip on the edge of the roof and dropped down as a Silver-hand tried to run into Jorrvaskr. Her legs around his throat, she clung onto the roof until the man until was limp and still. She released him then the roof, hitting the wooden deck with a thud. Unsheathing her knife, she slammed it into the nearest Silver-hand’s neck. Once they noticed her, Silver-hand were on her like fleas. Out of everything the Stormcloaks had taught her like honor and kinship and humor, being able to fight hand to hand was the best. She had insisted she be taught, remembering the agony from the broken nose Athis gave her too well. Ellayna may have been useless with swords and heavy weapons, but she could certainly throw a punch. 

She broke the first man’s nose before he could even ready himself. When he tried to punch, she blocked and twisted his arm to pin it behind his back. She kneed him once, twice, three times in the face then let him fall to the ground. A woman was about to throw a knife at Ellayna but one of Aela’s arrows stopped her. At least the helm gave Ellayna the chance of being accepted, briefly, by the Companions. Aela nodded gravely to her then drew another arrow, shooting another nearby Silver-hand. Ellayna used her to knife and kicked a man in the stomach, making him double over, before burying her blade in his neck. 

After the next three Silver-hand were down, Ellayna was truly beginning to feel the burn in her muscles and the wrongness of the situation in her belly. She hated this. The smell of blood sickened her and the sight of the red brought back other memories of killing. She wanted to be anywhere but there. Yet she knew that in some ways, the Silver-hand deserved it. They were the ones who invaded Whiterun. But they had probably been misled and manipulated by a certain few, their hate fueled by careful propaganda. This only made Ellayna feel worse. 

Her sorrow made her faulted. A broad shouldered Silver-hand’s fist caught her face. The impact of it sent her down, her helm flung from her head. Her knife disappeared, lost amongst bodies and other weapons. The Silver-hand kicked her stomach, causing her armor to dig into her. Hair covering her eyes, she tried to scramble away to recover before ending him. He grabbed her by the hair and mercilessly pulled her to her feet. She screamed, hands clutching his, face contorted in a snarl. He grinned at her, “Aren’t you pretty? Too pretty to be siding with fucking wolves.” 

She grinned back, moving one of her hands and willing her magic into it. “Too pretty to die from an ugly bastard like you.” 

He screamed more high-pitched than she had when she thrust a handful of flames into his face. Lurching away from him as he fell, Ellayna had no time to find her helm. If anyone saw who she was, no fuss was made yet. She summoned her flame atronach, something else she should have done earlier, and then began throwing fireballs. They were not as accurate as arrows and she desperately avoided hitting any of the Companions. 

Skjor burst from the doors of Jorrvaskr, nearly knocking Aela over. “Vilkas! Athis! With me!” He disappeared before either could respond. The two ran after him, cutting down any Silver-hand in their way. 

The number of Silver-hand had noticeably decreased. Most were on the ground. Now the rest were beginning to see it was a lost cause. Once one fled, the rest followed. Ellayna saw now where they had come from; the Underforge. They needed not go through any of Whiterun’s guards to attack the Companions. 

Ellayna found herself struggling to draw breath, her hands on her knees. None of the Companions watched the Silver-hand, their eyes on the redheaded woman in glass armor instead. 

“Ellayna?” Farkas was more confused than upset. He was covered in blood. Some was his own. He wore fabric instead of metal, clearly having just woken when he was forced to fight. 

“I would never have thought…” Aela shook her head, lost. 

Ria ran to her, stopping before she collided with Ellayna. “You fought well,” she congratulated her, breathing heavily and splattered with blood but still pleased. 

Gathering her thoughts and composer, Ellayna straightened herself. “Is this is the first time the Silver-hand have attacked Jorrvaskr?” 

“Yes,” Aela replied through a clenched jaw. “The cowards, the bastards, wanting to use night as cover.” 

Farkas kept his distance from Ellayna, but his softly spoken question still reached her, “What’re you doing here?” He did not look too different from how she remembered him. His hair was tied back and the lines around his mouth had deepened. Despite those, he was the same Farkas. 

Ellayna swept some of the blood and sweat away from her forehead with the back of her hand. “I was doing an errand for Ulfric,” she replied tersely and pursed her lips, hoping he would not ask her more. Her answer seemed to disappoint him. 

It was then that Vilkas reappeared. He did not have his sword with him. Through the blood that streaked down his face, he was pale as snow. He stared at everyone for a moment. Ellayna would have thought there would be hate in his eyes for her, but his gaze swept over her like she was a ghost. Vilkas whispered something. No body heard and when there was no response to what he said, Vilkas spoke again. “Kodlak’s dead,” he was mortified by his own words. “Kodlak’s dead.” 

Everyone swayed where they were. The weight of his words settled on them. Aela and Farkas shot forward at the same time, followed by a horrified Ellayna. Farkas grasped his brother’s arm and towed him along. Ellayna did not glance back to see if Ria or Njada tailed them. 

The interior of Jorrvaskr had not changed, save for the bodies of Silver-hand strewn on the ground. Among them was Torvar, reclined in a chair, an axe protruding from his chest. He was not her foremost concern. 

Skjor and Tilma were standing beside Kodlak’s bed. Beneath the stench of blood, Ellayna smelt sickness. At the sight of the old man, she knew he would not have lasted long anyway. His cheeks were shrunken and his skin pale and wrinkled. What had killed him, however, was clear. This throat had been cut. His blood was drying on his sheets and closed. Blood had dribbled from the corner of his mouth. 

“No…” Farkas stumbled forward and took the old man’s hand. He did nothing more than hold it. Vilkas put his hand on Farkas’ shoulder then rest his chin against his hand, looking down at Kodlak. Tilma was weeping unashamedly. Aela went to Skjor and murmured something to him. Ellayna just stood and stared. This was the man who had told her to better herself. He had been strong and wise and knowing. And now he was gone. 

“I am the Harbinger now,” Skjor decreed quietly. “And I say the Silver-hand must pay for what they have done this morning.” 

“We are still a small pack,” Aela added. “There are only four of us.” Tilma must know about the beast blood, otherwise she would never have mentioned such a thing. 

Skjor unnervingly fixed his gaze on Ellayna. “You can fight now.” 

Ellayna glowered at him. “Not without regret. It’s not something I will ever enjoy.” 

“Yet, we’ve all heard tales of what you have done, Dragonborn. It seems to me that someone who as spilled so much blood would enjoy it.” 

She did not answer. When she was younger, she would have indulged him in his petty argument. She wasn’t willing to do so now. Instead Farkas spoke, “Not now, not while Kodlak is like this.” 

No matter how she wanted to see Kodlak given a proper funeral, she knew this was not where she belonged. Gently she touched the end of Kodlak’s bed pallet, then turned away. 

“Dragonborn,” Skjor’s words stopped her. “You have one chance to come with us and make them bleed. Two days from now, at dusk, in the Underforge.” 

She continued walking. He wanted to make her a werewolf. Giving her the best blood was not a good idea and she could not see it ending well. 

She was nearly at the doorway leading upstairs when Farkas said her name. For him, she did turn around. 

“I don’t think anyone thanked you,” he said sheepishly, “So thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“You didn’t have to help us.” 

Ellayna managed to give him a smile. “I did have to.” She felt him watch her go. 

With Ulfric’s axe still on her hip, she would go up to Dragonsreach and deliver it, as well as give the news of Kodlak’s death. Balgruuf would be sorry to know Kodlak was dead and then give the axe back, meaning another invasion was imminent. No matter where Ellayna was, blood followed her.


	21. Mistake

Ellayna wanted to drown in drink. She sat in the most distant table of the Bannered Mare that she could, her back to the fire-pit and ignoring everyone else in the spacious room. She stared into her nearly empty mug of ale, acutely aware that it was only midafternoon and she had already drunk three other mugs. In her mind, she replayed again and again the face Balgruuf wore as he gave Ulfric’s axe back to Ellayna. He was a man who chose war and he knew this. Whiterun would be invaded. Ellayna would be forced to help. She would be forced to kill again. 

Although she had bathed –at a very high cost which one of the girls here in the Bannered Mare demanded because it took so long to heat water and fill a tub– Ellayna still felt as though she had blood on her. Every time she had to take a life, she numbed a little bit. By the end of Ulfric’s plans for her, she wondered if she would have any feeling left. 

Someone touched her shoulder before she even knew he was there. It startled her that she had not noticed Farkas earlier and it did nothing to improve her dark mood. It could have been anyone who snuck up on her. She was ashamed she had not been more observant and not sure whether she wanted to see Farkas. 

“Do you want to be alone?” 

_I never want to be alone. Never. I hate being alone._ Could Ellayna say that? Probably not. Instead she offered a small, stiff smile. “No.” 

Farkas sat beside her rather than opposite her and gestured to one of the staff to bring him a drink. He sat there for a moment, looking at the thick hands he had placed on the table. Ellayna said nothing, leaning back in her chair with her chin tucked against her chest. Once the woman had brought Farkas a mug of mead, he cleared his throat quietly. “It’s nice seeing you like that.” 

She understood what he meant. She no longer wore her glass armor, instead now clad in ankle length jade green skirts and a cream blouse. “Did you not like the armor?” She tried to tease him. It came out dry and quiet. She noted what he wore no armor either, just a mousey brown jerkin and dark breeches. The amount of laces on the front of the breeches would make them hard to undo. Immediately, Ellayna mentally scolded herself for that second thought. She and Farkas were no more. 

“It’s not really you,” Farkas looked away instantly. Did he know her? Not now. They had not even known each other long before she left two years ago, but then she had felt like he knew her. He had been her safe place for a while. She no longer had a safe place. 

“Why did you come here, Farkas?” 

He took a mouthful of mead before he answered. “You should come to Kodlak’s funeral.” 

“I wouldn’t be welco–” 

“Kodlak would have wanted you there,” he interjected quietly, cutting through her weak words easily. He looked for something in the inside of his jerkin, then pulled out a letter, sealed with red wax. “Here.” 

Ellayna took it wordlessly. She stared at it, contemplating whether to break the seal. 

“Kodlak said that there is a time and a place for that letter,” Farkas admitted. “I don’t know what he meant.” 

“I think I do.” Kodlak was no fool. He would have guessed the conflict between the Stormcloaks and Whiterun was brewing. After the siege she would open the letter. Yes, after the dreaded siege. 

“The funeral is tomorrow at midday,” Farkas told her without prompting. 

For a while they sat in silence. Farkas ordered food for the both of them without asking Ellayna whether she was hungry or not. She probably looked as bad as she felt. Food would do her good. They ate the baked river fish, fresh bread with sweet butter and apples cooked in honey and almond milk. If Ellayna had been in better spirits she may have enjoyed it, but nevertheless felt better for having something other than ale in her belly. 

“Vil said Skjor plans to make you part of the pack,” Farkas spoke low after he had finished off his plateful. “It doesn’t make sense.” 

“He sees me for what I’ve become, not who I was. He can put aside that I was a whore for my ability to kill. He’s as self-serving as they come, only wanting to tolerate me because I’m suddenly useful to him.” 

Farkas froze. That was more than she had said to him in one go since she returned to Whiterun. Did he startle because Ellayna was harsh or because the truth about Skjor was pointed out to him with words? “He hates the Silver-hand,” Farkas nodded slowly. “It controls him.” 

Ellayna was watching him keenly now. He was more reserved than he had been before she left. He had never been outgoing as such or loud, but this was different. “You don’t agree with it.” 

“I don’t like the Silver-hand in any way, but Skjor’s become…” 

“Obsessive,” Ellayna offered the word with a snort. “I’m used to dealing with men like that.” Ulfric was certainly no saint when it came to that. 

What compelled Ellayna to place her empty hand on the table, she didn’t know. All she understood was that she wanted to see whether or not Farkas would take it in his own hand. 

“Why are you in Whiterun?” Farkas asked the questions he had been burning to since he sat down beside her. “Why now?” 

“Ulfric wanted me to,” she laughed without humor. “I do everything he wants these days. I’m not free, Farkas. I am the Dovahkiin and that is the only part of me that matters to anyone. It’s like being a prostitute again; but instead of selling my body, I’ve sold my talents and magic to Ulfric and his Stormcloaks.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You didn’t do anything.” 

He nodded, eyes on her hand. “I’m sorry for saying sorry.” 

She closed her eyes. “Ah, Farkas.” Suddenly she smiled. “You haven’t called me puppy or pup once.” 

Farkas chuckled. “It didn’t seem right.” 

Ellayna stayed there with her eyes closed for a few minutes, relaxed. The food had dulled the effects of the ale and she could hear melodic singing behind her in the main part of the tavern. She could hear Farkas move, picking up his mug then placing it down a few seconds later. Then she felt Farkas’ hand in hers. There was uncertainly in the act and his hand felt stiff in hers. Ellayna opened her eyes, watching him, knowing that she should pull away from the touch. She would leave Whiterun again and return with an army at her back. She would aid in the sacking of his home. 

“I’m going to get some air,” she told him tersely, removing her hand from his and standing. She slipped Kodlak’s letting into her small room before going outside. Not waiting to see if Farkas would follow, she left the table and exited the Bannered Mare, stepping out into the cooling air. Afternoon was becoming evening and the sun was setting behind distant mountains, streaking the sky with gold and dark grey. Goosebumps formed on her skin in an almost pleasant way, cooling her hot body down. She became aware of Farkas standing beside her. “I regret it sometimes,” she said quietly. 

“What?” He asked in genuine ignorance. 

“Leaving. I wonder what it would have been like to stay.” 

He nodded slowly, almost surprised. 

“I shouldn’t have come back, though. I’ve made so many enemies,” she laughed. “It doesn’t matter what my occupation is, there’s always someone who wants to kill me.” 

“There’s nobody right now,” he told her. It was almost like a promise. “Not right here.” She felt his hand gently touch her shoulder. She felt the urge to melt into him, lean all of her weight on him, and forget the burdens she carried. A moment later, she did just that and was held tightly by Farkas’ familiar arms. Him kissing the side of her head made her lean back and press her mouth to his. Her hand went to the back of his neck as the kiss deepened. When they broke apart, he pressed another kiss to her forehead. She made her decision and mumbled in a low tone, breathing heavily, “We should go back my chambers.” He agreed with a hum. 

They were completely unheeded as they went through the inn. Ellayna made sure to bolt her door behind them, a task made difficult by Farkas’ lips on her neck and hand going up her blouse.

***

Ellayna slowly became aware of herself and of her surroundings. She lay on her back, Farkas on his side beside her. One of his hands was on her belly. His skin was hot against hers and she could hear his slow breathing. It was not yet dawn, as there was no rays of sunlight filtering in through the shutters. She was too warm and oddly comfortable, the woolen blanket covering them heavy against her. Everything about last night had been comforting and pleasant. Farkas was so familiar it was almost like going home.

Another part of her knew it to be a mistake. He deserved better than a false hope that she was staying when she would always leave. Ellayna pushed herself upright, panicky all of a sudden. Of course she had made that mistake. She was constantly making mistakes. Farkas’ hand being pushed away woke him and he murmured inaudibly in confusion. Ellayna stumbled naked out of the bed, trying to find her clothes in the dark. 

“Puppy?” He asked quietly. 

“I’m not your puppy,” she retorted, louder than intended. 

He was dumbfounded and his response to her cruelty only deepened her guilt. 

“This shouldn’t have happened,” she tried to explain, finding her blouse first. She fumbled with the ties, frustration making her fingers clumsy. “It was a mistake.” 

“I don’t think it was,” Farkas mumbled, eyes not leaving her face. He was still sitting in the bed, the blanket covering his lap. 

Being the Dovahkiin was more dangerous than Ellayna had imaged and she wanted none of that to spill over and cause harm Farkas. She was not in control of her own life and her death would cause him grief. The Stormcloaks would attack Whiterun. She would never be able to stay in one place. They were four good reasons why it would never work with Farkas. He would only get hurt. “I’m sorry,” she hissed through her teeth, trying not to let her emotion seep into her voice. She pulled on her skirts, saying tersely, “I want you gone from here when I get back.” 

“Ellayna,” Farkas sat forward. He made a brief attempt to take her hand but she snatched it away. “Please, calm down. I’ve missed you. I love you.” 

“And I don’t love you,” she impulsively snapped. She paused, registering what she said, and kept a mask of annoyance over her horror at what she had said. He was devastated. She turned on her heel and left him there, not even wearing any shoes as she stormed from the chamber and then from the inn. Her toes were frozen against the cobblestone ground and she hugged herself as she did a lap around Whiterun. More than one guard asked her what was wrong and she only glared in reply. She was close to tears by the time she got back to the Bannered Mare. She probably would have begun to sob if Farkas was still in her chambers when she returned. Her bed was empty and his clothing was gone. Closing the door behind herself, she blinked away her tears and lay down on the bed pallet, finding it still warm from where Farkas had been.

***

At midday, she did attend Kodlak’s funeral. Wearing her glass armor and her bow over her shoulders, she lingered in the background. She stood behind everyone else and watched Skjor light the funeral pyre which sat on the forge below the giant stone hawk. Ellayna couldn’t keep her thought on what was being said about Kodlak. She did not shed tears over him, instead just felt a deep hollowness inside her chest. He had been a good man, not one who should have had his throat cut by brutes.

Farkas looked fleetingly back at Ellayna more than once. He stood beside Vilkas, expression grim. She wondered if he told his brother about what happened last night. It would only make Vilkas loathe Ellayna more. 

She did not linger after the funeral. It occurred to her that this was the right time to leave and begin her journey back to Ulfric. Something in her told her not to. She had to wait. It didn’t take long to realize why; Skjor offered her the chance to help gain vengeance for Kodlak’s death. She wanted more than anything to take it. She decided to go when he said but not for why he offered it to her. Something was more important than vengeance. 

When the time came over a day later at dusk, Ellayna strode into the Underforge. She tried not to be offended by the surprised looks she got from all four of the Circle members. Farkas looked more wistful compared to Vilkas’ anger. By the look on his face, Farkas had told his brother. Skjor and Aela were just plain shocked. 

“I didn’t think you’d come, Dragonborn,” Skjor nodded approvingly. “You have courage.” 

“I’m not here for what you think I am,” Ellayna told them matter-of-factly. “I have come to warn you.” 

“Warn us?” Aela nearly laughed. 

“Ulfric has plans for Whiterun and Balgruuf has made them certain,” Ellayna hardened her tone. “You’ll know when the time comes and you have to protect the civilians. I can make it so no one attacks Jorrvaskr if you make it a refuge for terrified citizens.” 

They all stayed still, considering what this news meant to them and to Whiterun. Vilkas spoke with a very low voice, “Ulfric can’t win, can he?” 

“He can and he will,” Ellayna told him. “I suggest you put aside thoughts of revenge until then.” 

“Will you join us after this?” Skjor asked. He seemed set on giving her the beast blood. 

“I’ve yet to decide,” she nodded once, stepping backward. With nothing more to say, she left them. Some of the weigh she carried was lifted, knowing that there was a possibility fewer would die than was necessary. She suffered internally about what she had said to Farkas, and that was a feeling that did not leave her as she traveled and even as she returned Ulfric’s axe to him.


	22. Beast Blood

Ulfric did not even show his face to take Whiterun. Galmar and Ralof were leading the Stormcloak charge at Whiterun’s imposing gates. The former was spilling nonsense about the true brothers and sister of Skyrim, to which Ellayna was not listening. She had her back to them, instead watching the Stormcloak catapults launch balls of flame into the air and over Whiterun’s walls. Rumbles could be heard as they crashed and smoke was rising into the sky. Ellayna did not think of her own safety, instead she hoped to Talos that the Companions had listened to her and taken as many Whiterun citizens as they could into Jorrvaskr. 

Eventually, she tired of listening of Galmar. She began toward the cobblestone road that led up into the city. She knew lines upon lines of Imperials and Whiterun guards waited for her and the other Stormcloaks. Once Galmar realized she was leaving without everyone else, he brought his speech to an abrupt end and ordered them to go. Ellayna, clearly now leading, began to run. She listened to the dozens of footsteps behind and tried to find heart in that. She couldn’t. Nothing could lighten her mood for the task ahead. 

She summoned her flame atronach and unslung her bow. From then on in, she tried not to pay attention to what she was doing. She refused to count how many men and women she shot down. She barely registered the fiery explosion that killed multiple of the enemy when her atronach was destroyed. It was Ellayna who made it up to the tower and let down the drawbridge. As she went back down to rejoin the Stormcloaks who were rejoicing in the blood and chaos, Ralof took her by the arm. “Do you think you can take Dragonsreach?” He demanded. 

“Why do you ask?” 

“We’ve lost more men than we anticipated.” 

Of course they had. There was always more bloodshed than _anticipated_. “I can take Dragonsreach.” 

He slapped her on the shoulder, his blood speckled face beaming with a grin. “Knew you could, Dragonborn.” 

She shrugged his hand off and stepped over the dead bodies littering the ground before Whiterun’s gates. Refusing to look down at their lifeless faces, she pressed on and strode through into Whiterun. She saw the city as she never had before. Barricades had been erected before the doors of buildings, spikes protruding out in defense against any who should try to enter. The only life in the streets was the Stormcloaks, most of them grinning, howling and cutting down any Whiterun guards they came across. Ellayna felt only mild relief as she strode through the streets and found that no civilians had yet been killed. 

When she was up the steps and passed the massive burning ruin that once was Heimskr’s house, she saw why this was. Farkas, Vilkas and Aela stood at the top of the stairway leading up to Jorrvaskr, all three of them daunting figures. Ellayna glimpsed what appeared to be civilians around the back of Jorrvaskr. They had taken her warning to heart. 

“Hey, would you look at the Companions,” one of the Stormcloaks lingering at the bottom of the stairway growled. “All high and mighty. Bet you never got real blood on your hands, eh?” 

A few of this soldiers comrades made agreeing noises. One added to the insult, “Y’all up there are just fat pigeons waitin’ to be shot down.” 

Ellayna gritted her teeth. These soldiers had no idea about the threat the Circle faced in regards to the Silver-hand. The two bold Stormcloak men began up the steps, jeering and sneering at the Companions as they did so. Neither three standing at the top moved. Farkas was watching Ellayna with an unreadable expression instead of focusing on the Stormcloaks. 

Sick of the taunts, Ellayna bounded up the steps and put herself between the Stormcloaks and the Companions. Standing one step above the first soldier, she stared at him defiantly and ignored the fact that she still had to look up at him to meet his eyes. “If you,” she raised her voice briefly, “Or anyone else, tries to harm the Companions or any of the civilians they protect, I guarantee I will personally castrate you,” she had secretly pulled a knife from her belt and made the Stormcloak very aware that she held the blade to his groin. “Now, if you want to keep your cock, back down.” 

Just like she knew he would, the soldier backed away and scowled at her for ruining his fun. The other Stormcloaks were just as displeased and threw disapproving glares at Ralof, who waited nearby impatiently for Ellayna. After giving Farkas and the other two a glance, Ellayna returned to where Ralof waited. 

“Are you done?” Ralof hissed. When Ellayna did not reply and began up the steps to Dragonsreach, Ralof scoffed. “You sure do still have a lot of allegiance to the Companions.” 

“My allegiance lies with life,” she retorted. “I don’t want any blood spilled that isn’t necessary.” 

“Those defending Whiterun deserved what they got for siding with the Imperials. They weren’t true nords, not in their hearts.” 

It was Ellayna’s turn to scoff. “You’re a fool.” 

Ralof would have countered if they had not burst into Dragonsreach. Ellayna had her bow drawn and an arrow pulled back. Immediately men and women were running toward them, but Ellayna had her eyes on another target. Jarl Balgruuf was moving toward them, fully armored with his sword at the ready. She aimed her arrow for him and watched him fall as the glass arrow struck his thigh. She tried not to remember that he had been kind to him when she killed her first dragon. 

Dropping her bow and mustering her magic, she sent flames in every direction. Whiterun guards screamed and fell, not getting the chance to be close enough to swing at her. Once she was done, Ralof whistled above the sound of agonized wailing. “Why did I even ask,” he mumbled to himself. He began toward where Balgruuf was lying and where Irileth was crouching over him, examining the wound. The arrow had gone through both sides of his thigh and the steel plating of his armor; they would have more than a little trouble removing that. Galmar surprised Ellayna when he placed his hand on her shoulder, surveying the damage. “You did well, Dragonborn,” he told her with pride in his voice. Then he joined Ralof. 

Ellayna was less keen to approach. They were nearly taunting him about the winning of Whiterun. Then Vignar entered the giant hall and already had a smug look on his face. Ellayna knew that, even though he was indefinitely on Ulfric’s side, he would not be the jarl that Balgruuf was. 

They began to bicker about the Empire’s place in Skyrim and the outlawed worship of Talos. This was all while Balgruuf was writhing in agony and gritting his words through his teeth. When Balgruuf asked, “Was it all worth it?” Ellayna wanted desperately to answer that it was not worth it. None of it was. Eventually Vignar gave up and strode passed Balgruuf to where the chair that was nearly a throne sat. Balgruuf called after him. “This isn’t over. You hear me you old fool! This isn’t over! And you,” he settled his violent, pained eyes on Ellayna. “A Stormcloak? I’d thought better of you.” 

“I thought better of myself, too,” she answered softly, nearly surprising him into forgetting what he would say next. 

Yet those words still came and Ellayna knew he was right. “You’ll all come to regret this day.”

The rest of the Stormcloak taking over of Whiterun went smoothly. Any other guards or stray Imperials were imprisoned within the Dragonsreach dungeons, and Balgruuf, his children and Irileth were locked in chambers inside Dragonsreach. Galmar gave Ellayna her orders to take the news of Ulfric back in Windhelm but told her that her leaving could wait until tomorrow. Stormcloaks now served as guards around Whiterun and they celebrated their victory in the only way these nords seemed to know how. 

While her comrades were overrunning the two city taverns, Ellayna made her way down to Jorrvaskr. There she found a steady stream of citizens leaving their shelter, many grim faced or in tears. They had probably lost kin that day. Ellayna could not meet the eyes of any of them and continued on to find members of the Companions. 

Most of them were outside Jorrvaskr, in the training yard at the back. They spoke with civilians, offering comforting words and reassurances. Not knowing whether other Companions would talk to her, Ellayna reluctantly approached Farkas. He was sitting on his own on the steps, his face blank. When he saw Ellayna he smiled, briefly, then most likely recalled the way she spoke to him only weeks ago. His smile dropped away. She promised herself she would not stay long. “Were any of them hurt?” She asked him. 

“None of the people who were here,” Farkas breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Ellayna, for warning us.” 

Not trusting herself to say anymore, she offered a small smile and a nod. Then she left him, feeling like somewhat lost. She managed to find herself in the Bannered Mare, taking a seat in one of the few tables not occupied by Stormcloaks. It was a relief for her to remove her helm and be able to run her hand through her shoulder length hair. Singing irritatingly loudly, the Stormcloaks were already making a mess of the tavern. They were drunk both on ale and on the thrill of triumph. A serving woman, a pretty redguard, brought Ellayna a tankard of ale before she had ordered. The woman leaned down and spoke into Ellayna’s ear. “We know what you did, to keep us civilians from getting hurt. This drink’s on the house.” Ellayna thanked her and the woman said there was no need to thank, then left her. Ellayna couldn’t name the feeling that came over her, but she felt odd for a while after that. 

She was more than content to sit alone in her self-imposed exile. Any Stormcloaks who approached her were glared away. Ellayna remembered to order food to not be so effected by her ale and she managed to stay sober enough to still have her wits. Unfortunately that was also sober enough to feel nothing but guilt for what she had gone that day. 

Someone sat in front of her and Ellayna did her usual glare for them to go away. Aela simply returned the glare and Ellayna accidently blurted, “What the fuck do you want?” Perhaps she had drunk more than she previously thought. 

Aela cocked an eyebrow, then look toward the Stormcloaks as she spoke. “You did well fighting. I want to ask you again to join with us.” 

“It’s very convenient for you, isn’t it?” Ellayna rest her elbow on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand. “Being able to forgo your morals as soon as it suits you?” 

“I don’t glorify killing.” 

“Oh, yes, you do.” 

“Not murder,” Aela justified herself. “But if you kill for a purpose, to reach a final, worthwhile objective, then it can be condoned.” 

“You planned out what you were going to say.” 

“Ellayna,” Aela faced her now, leaning forward eagerly over the table. “Join us. You can be valuable part of this family.” She paused. “Have you ever had a family? One that’s stronger than any blood ties? That’s what it’s like to be in a pack. You’re closer than blood.” 

“So, like how Farkas and Vilkas are closer than blood?” Ellayna took a sip of her ale, watching Aela’s face harden. 

Yet Aela chose not to ignore that, which fully confirmed Ellayna’s thoughts on that matter. “As a family, as a pack, you will always have a home,” Aela promised. “You will have a family who will never leave you, and you will never want to leave them.” 

“I’m not sure I fully like the sound of that.” Ellayna couldn’t even tell if she was lying or not. 

“You could be so much more than you are now, Ellayna, if you took the blood,” Aela rose to her feet, her chair scraping as she did so. “You have until midnight to sober up and come to the Underforge. We take on the Silver-hand this night, with or without you.” 

Ellayna watched her leave. They could all die, taking on the Silver-hand numbering only four, even if they were werewolves. She felt her throat tighten at the mere idea of Farkas dying, surrounded by a pool of his own blood, that blood matting in his fur and silver weapons jutting from his flesh. Despite what she had said to him after their night together, she did not want him to die. No part of her wanted that fate for him. He deserved better. 

She had over five hours until midnight. Ordering more food and trying to sober up, she waited until the last hour to leave the Bannered Mare and make her way up to Jorrvaskr. Her helm tucked underneath her arm and her bow over her shoulder, she strode into the Underforge while speculating if this was the best choice she could make. She saw no other way to be certain that Farkas would live. 

Standing around the thick stone basin in the center of the cave, the four members of the Circle stood. She briefly wondered if they had been lingering down here for hours. 

“You made the right choice,” Aela spoke to her like a teacher praising a student. “This pack will welcome you as one of us.” 

“Indeed you will be welcome,” Skjor smiled, pleased with what he and Aela had done. In his hand he held a steel dagger. “Shall we begin?” His eyes darted to Vilkas and Farkas. Vilkas gave a reluctant nod, and Farkas did as well after a few more seconds of hesitation. 

“Take off your armor and arms,” Aela instructed matter-of-factly. Ellayna did as she was bid, not wanting to have any of it ruined. The pieces of glass fell to the ground with clinks and clacks, until she was bared chested and only wearing small clothes around her groin. There was nothing else she could wear; the rest of it was leather attached to the glass. She stood before them, defiant and shameless. 

That was when Aela morphed forms. Ellayna did her best not to wince at the sounds of bones cracking and rejoining, grinding and shifting. Over the last two years, Ellayna had not missed those sounds. Fur sprouted from every part of Aela’s body and she emerged from her crumpled position as a beast of massive proportion. Having only ever seen Farkas in beast form, Ellayna noted that Aela was smaller than him but no less lithely muscled, with claws and teeth equally as deadly. It took Aela a moment, but she gathered herself and stepped forward, holding one of her thick arms over the basin. There was an unmeasurable amount of trust in her eyes as Skjor stepped forward and slid the dagger quickly over her wrist. A low, keening rumble came from her throat but she held her arm there as blood poured out. When Skjor touched her arm again Aela pulled it back and seated herself on the floor, proceeding to lick her wound clean.

Now it was Ellayna’s time. She could smell the blood. She stood right against the basin, the stone cold against her belly. Forming her two hands into a cup, she filled it with the hot blood. Pretending it was anything other than what it truly was, Ellayna drank. It took all of her skill not to spit it out. It was hot and thick and metallic but she drank her handful, or at least what did not spill of it. Blood down her chin and down her bared chest, she placed her hands on the basin for stability. Already her heart had begun pounding harder than it ever had. She stared at Farkas, holding his gaze. She was doing this for him. Their eyes stayed locked as Ellayna struggled to keep herself composed. She kept her eyes on Farkas until the moment where everything went black.


	23. Kodlak's Journal

All she recalled was flashes of images and screeching sounds. Everything was too bright, too loud, too intense. There was blood in Ellayna’s mouth, coating her claws, saturating her fur. Silver blurs stung like salt in a wound when they struck her. She bellowed in protest and swiped them away, but something was always there, giving way to her talons with piercing screams. 

Between these vague recollections, there was nothing but blackness. There was no pain, no dismay, no joy, just nothingness. It was oddly relieving after the periods of intensity. But eventually, she came out of the nothingness for longer than usual. 

She was lying on her stomach, able to feel the blood slickened around beneath her as she tried to push herself up. Someone was screaming but not for fear of her own death; she knelt beside the bloody, arrow pierced body of a hulking beast. Ellayna recognized the back of Farkas, standing not far in front of her and facing the fallen werewolf. She wished to be beside him, away from all this torment, somewhere quiet and calm without the colour red.

Ellayna felt her body begin to change before it happened. She began keening, unable to halt the agony of morphing bones. She saw her paws change into hands, rippling and contorting until they were small and lacking thick auburn fur. Suddenly blood covered them, dripping from above. The warm liquid, she realized, came from her. She brought her hands to her face, feeling the liquid on her nose and coming from her inside her mouth. Then her vision become red and her eyes felt like flames. She dimly hear herself scream. Her ears too felt hot and damp. She tried to get up and flee but only fell and felt her shoulder hit the stones hard. It jolted her pained body with indescribable pain. She flinched when someone touched her skin, but was unable to stay conscious enough to see tried to help her. 

As she lapsed back into nothingness, she recalled Arnbjorn’s words to her years ago: “Careful now, tidbit, the beast isn’t an easy thing to tame.”

***

The talking became louder and louder until it was all her dazed mind could focus on. They were saying words like “troubled” and “unknown”. Ellayna did not follow any of it. But when she became aware of the ache in her chest and the numbness in her limbs, her body went into the instinctual flight or fight mode. She jolted upright and tried to scramble out of the bed pallet, tangling herself in blankets. She was caught by the shoulders and gently coaxed into lying down. Her eyes darted to all parts of the room, unable to focus on anything let alone register what was happening. After a few moments, she found one person she was able to focus on. Farkas sat beside her, still holding down of her shoulders, his concentration swapping back and forth from her to the conversation on the other side of the room.

***

She must have lapsed into unconsciousness again, for when she woke again, most of the candles had been snuffed and Farkas was asleep beside her. Although he sat in a chair, his upper half was leaning on her bed and the top of his head was pressed against her side. His head was turned to her and beneath his eyelids his eyes moved; she hoped silently that he dreamed good dreams. Gently, with a hand that shook, she ran the backs of her fingers over his cheek. His eyes stilled and a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. There was a pause and then he sat up, leaning with his elbows on the bed. Between his two hands he took hers and held it to his mouth. “You sure gave us a fright.”

Ellayna’s throat felt like sandpaper but she still croaked out the words. “I can’t comment, what I remember isn’t clear.” 

Farkas took a deep breath in. “You seemed fine, better than fine, when you first changed. It wasn’t until the fighting that you lost control. Then…” He looked away. “Skjor was killed, Vilkas was injured badly. And then you began– you began throwing up blood after you changed. I honestly don’t know how we survived.” 

“But Skjor didn’t. How did it happen?”

“Silver sword,” one of his hands went to his chest and pointed to a place between his ribs. “Straight through the heart.” 

She did not know what to say, other than a small, “I’m sorry.” Skjor had never been her favourite person and she felt guiltier that she did not mourn him than she did sorry that he was dead. 

“Vilkas had a warhammer come down on his shoulder. The bones are shattered. With the help of potions, he’s healing but it’s slow.” For a time, they sat in silence. It was difficult for Ellayna to keep her eyes open after a while but when Farkas eventually spoke again, she perked up. “Apparently you aren’t a werewolf now.” 

“But I drank the blood.” 

“You rejected it. Or at least that’s what Aela said. It’ll be why you don’t remember a thing.” 

Was she relieved? Was she disappointed? Ellayna couldn’t tell. She was numb and loathed it. She simply sat there, wondering what to feel. 

“You’ll recover, Ellayna, and be as you were before the blood,” Farkas smiled reassuringly. That was when she knew he was more let down than she was. 

“You must have really wanted me to be like you.”

It took him longer than she expected to reply. “Do you want honesty?” 

“I do.” She did even though she had not been entirely honest with him in the past. 

Her hand was held up to his mouth again and he closed his eyes. “Maybe if you were like me, you wouldn’t leave again.” Farkas put her hand down and stood, without looking at her, and left the room. “I’ll tell the others you’re awake. Get some rest,” he said at the door before he closed it. 

That was when she realized she was in chambers she did not recognize. They were in Jorrvaskr from the architecture but it was a room she had not been in before. Must have been one of the Circle’s chambers, before everything went to hell. Now two Circle members are dead, both of them having been harbingers, and Vilkas was injured. Whether or not Ellayna was counted as a member, she didn’t know. Torvar was also dead, killed when Kodlak was, so the Companions as a whole was down three members. 

Ellayna drifted to sleep once again. When she woke, she was alone and could not shake a feeling of being misplaced. It did not take much self-convincing for her to pull herself out of the bed, only to find that she wore nothing at all. Clearly the beast form had torn what little she had been wearing off. She found clothes in a chest in the corner of the chamber; they were Aela’s by the looks of things, but were old and had not been worn in a while. Ellayna pulled the trousers and tunic on, finding them slightly tight. After that she began to pace around the chambers. When she grew weary of this, she cautiously opened the door. It creaked loudly and she cringed, expecting to be discovered and sent back to her bed. No one was out of in the hallway, lest anyone who would send her to bed like a scorned child. What she was doing, she had no idea, but stepped into the passageway. She crept out on her bare, cold toes and repeatedly glanced around, making sure she was not watched. 

Something drew her to Kodlak’s chambers. After listening to be sure there was no one inside, she took one of the candle and holders sitting on a nearby round table and stepped cautiously into the harbinger chambers. No candles were lit inside and the hearth was long dead. She shivered at the chill of the room but continued on to the bed chamber. It did not look as though the chamber had been touched by Skjor or anyone else since Kodlak had died. The blood, of course, had been cleaned and the bedding changed, but the room still held all of Kodlak’s possessions. There was still a hint of blood in the room, however, no matter how faint. Ellayna sat on the edge of the bed pallet, letting her hand wander over the blanket. Then she noticed something peeking out from just beneath the nearest pillow. Placing the candle on the bedside cabinet, she reached for the object. Pulling it out, she discovered a book, which was a journal on closer inspection. The bottom corner had dried blood on it but that went ignored as she opened it. She flipped the pages to the last few entries, skim reading them. It spoke in great detail about the regret Kodlak had, about how he longed for the halls of heroes in Sovngarde. She did not understand most of that, feeling as though she was missing some sort of key piece of information. When she opened the last page of writing, a small, loose piece of paper fell out. She unfolded it and saw a map of Jorrvaskr, with lines directing the reader to an ‘x’. 

Heedless of who may be awake and in the hall, she left the harbinger chambers carrying the miniature map and Kodlak’s journal tucked beneath her elbow. In the great mead hall, nobody was present. The windows were dark with night and the only light source was the fire-pit in the center of the hall. Focusing intently on the map, Ellayna retraced the steps the map depicted. During this, she nearly collided with someone she had not seen approaching. Out of reflex she hid the map behind her back, even thought Farkas had already seen it. 

“It’s midnight, you should be asleep,” he told her with a scowl. 

“Perhaps you should be as well. I was just stretching my legs.” 

They both knew she lied and immediately Ellayna regretted her untruthful impulses. Farkas sighed, his shoulders visibly lowering. “Enough, please.” 

She pulled the map back out, then tersely explained what the journal said and how she had found the paper. Farkas gently took the map and began following the trail like she had been. Ellayna just clutched the journal and followed along after him, brimming with questions. She began with the most pressing: “Why can Kodlak not go to Sovngarde?” 

“He is–” Farkas paused. “He was, a werewolf. We go to the Hunting Grounds of Hircine in death.” 

“Hircine? As in the Huntsman of the Princes?” 

Farkas nodded, then glanced back at her. “What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t want any more dealings with Daedra. They’re nothing but trouble,” she grumbled. “Everything in Skyrim is nothing but trouble.” 

Farkas suddenly knelt. They were near the back of the hall, beside a chair. Tentatively, Farkas pushed against the wooden floor board. Finding it loose, he pried it open and placed it aside. In the gap which they discovered, a piece of dark metal glimmered. Ellayna wormed her way passed Farkas, her side pressed against his, to claim the metal. As she brought the metal into the better light, Farkas’ mouth opened in astonishment. She too recognized the markings and the age of it. “Is this a shard of Wuuthrad?” 

“Why would he hide this?” Farkas’ voice betrayed his hurt. He reached over her to touch his fingertips to the metal, bringing the two of them closer for a distracting moment. 

“Apparently I am not the one with something to redeem,” she mumbled, then spoke clearer. “I don’t understand any of this.” 

“Neither. What did that letter say?” 

She didn’t follow. “What letter…” she realized and swore. “I never opened it, but it’s still with my things in the Bannered Mare.” 

Farkas was returning the floor board to where it belonged. “We can get it tomorrow. Now, you should sleep.” 

“Shouldn’t you have been asleep as well?” 

He looked down sheepishly. “I was hungry.” 

Trying not to laugh even a little, she gave him the shard of Wuuthrad, making his thick fingers curl over the side of it securely. “Keep it hidden for now, until we know why Kodlak concealed it. I’ll read over the whole journal.” 

He nodded but frowned also. “After you sleep.” 

She groaned and turned on her heel, to begin toward the barracks. “Yes, mother.” 

Farkas chuckled, and when she demanded to know what was so funny, all he could say was, “I missed your joking.”


	24. Witches

Farkas wouldn’t let Ellayna go with him to the Bannered Mare. Ellayna paced around Aela’s old chambers, biting her lower lip in frustration and impatience. He had told her to wait and rest, but she could have sworn she wore herself out more by not going to the inn. It seemed like a millennia before Farkas returned with the few possessions of hers that had been left at the inn, and Ellayna immediately felt her anticipation build up. Quickly, not minding that Farkas watched, she retrieved the letter and read it over. Her lips moved wordlessly as she read and she walked aimlessly, making the patient Farkas all the more curious. She read it twice before handing it to Farkas, then turned away as he read. 

“I don’t understand,” he complained once he was finished. “How can that work?” 

“If he wasn’t sure it would work, he wouldn’t have wrote it.” The letter had explained, in full, the deal made long ago with the Witches of Glenmoril and the curse of lycanthropy that followed. Then the letter began pleading for Ellayna to retrieve a witch’s head and take it to Ysgramor’s tomb, and after the ritual death of his wolf spirit Kodlak will be free of Hircine and be able to reside in Sovngarde. It seemed a long stretch and Ellayna felt some of the same reluctance as Farkas did. “We have to try,” she added quietly. 

“What of the last bit?” Farkas showed her, pointing to the short bottom paragraph. “I’m not the best reader, but that hints that you’ll be doing for him what he tried to do for you. What’s that?” 

“He called it redemption, I mentioned it late last night. I suppose I will be redeeming him, then.” 

“What could you need redeeming for?” Farkas asked in all his blessed ignorance and compassion. 

“My past, Farkas. For what I was.” 

“That’s not a problem. You did what you needed to do.” 

She smiled warily at him. “Never mind that, you big-hearted giant. Now we focus on Kodlak. Will you let me leave–?” 

“No.” 

“Not at all–?”

“No, I won’t,” Farkas was determined about this, and she knew by the frown that formed a crease between his eyebrows that he was not going to give in. 

“I am better now,” she promised him. “I feel fine.” 

“It hasn’t been much more than a day since you woke. You have to rest and recover.” 

“Farkas…” Her whine did nothing to persuade him. She stuck her bottom lip out and stared up at him with her big amber eyes. “Does this still work on you?” 

He crossed his arms over his chest, as though guarding his heart against her. “Normally, but this is for your own health, Ellayna.” 

She stopped pouting, and they both stared at each other for a moment. They both registered the closeness and the intimacy they lacked and in that moment, the gulf between them was so close to being fully bridged. All it would take was for Ellayna to throw her arms around his neck, to kiss his always warm lips. Then she remembered what she said to him before the siege of Whiterun; “I don’t love you.” Despite their brief closeness since Ellayna rejected the beast blood, that wound was still open and raw. And she recalled why she said it, to get him away from all of the dangers and hazards associated with her and with her being the Dovahkiin who wished to be anything but that. He was safer away from her world, she knew. She would need him for completing Kodlak’s last request, but after that, what happens? She leaves again, like Farkas fears? She stays, and has Athis constantly near? And what of Vilkas’ clear jealousy? There were so many possibilities. She knew, when she had been gone for two years, she would always regret leaving him, leaving the one person full of warmth and love in her life. She felt the loss of him at that moment less keenly than she had and knew it was because her mind had begun to trick itself into thinking that she had him again. Smiling at Farkas, breaking the tension between the two of them, Ellayna reminded herself to breathe and focus. _Su’um ahrk morah_ , Paarthurnax had told her. _Su’um ahrk morah_. She needed to focus now and not be caught up in a whirlwind of longing. 

“At least, if I can’t leave, will you take a letter to a courier for me?” She asked lightly. 

When he nodded his agreement, he waited for Ellayna to pen it. She scribbled, knowing Astrid would be able to read it whatever state it was in. One last kindness for an old friend, Ellayna was calling the favor. She had no doubts that Astrid would do as she asked, and once she had, there was no way Farkas could not let Ellayna leave the confines of Jorrvaskr. Ellayna gave the letter to Farkas and he whisked it away immediately, putting the next stream of events into motion.

[-X-]

Farkas took the letter to a courier, the one who usually lingered around Dragonsreach when not away delivering something. He told the courier the address that Ellayna told her, and the man’s eyes flashed with alarm and uncertainty, but took the letter nevertheless. Farkas did not understand because he did not know who the letter was to, nor who that person was associated with. Shaking off the odd encounter, Farkas returned to Jorrvaskr with the intent to see Ellayna again. Even though he knew he should not be spending time with her, for fear that she would once again leave, he could not resist. Seeing her in such agony with the beast blood had worried him to no end. And while everyone else mourned Skjor’s death, she was his only source of relief from that grief.

But when he got to Aela’s former chambers, he opened them only to find Ellayna asleep. She had curled on the bed, outside of the covers and lying on her side, Kodlak’s journal still held in her grip. Smiling to himself, Farkas went to her. There he gently removed the journal from her hands, placing it page down beside her pillow. Then he pulled old, brown woolen blanket draped over the end of the bed to cover her, careful not to disrupt her sleep. She needed rest as much rest as she could get, with how much her body had been through recently. Seeing how she was still asleep, he watched her for a moment, moving the copper strands of loose hair away from her face. Then he kissed her temple without her knowing and left her to rest. 

Closing the door quietly behind himself, he began walking back up to the mead hall. Passing his room and his brother’s, he heard Vilkas call out quietly. Curious, Farkas followed the sound and opened his brother’s door. Despite the healing potions, Vilkas’ body had taken a severe battering and he needed to rest. Vilkas was sitting up in his bed, his face damp with a coating of sweat and his skin a sickly pale. “Farkas,” he croaked, “I had a dream.” 

“Lie down,” Farkas encouraged, closing the door behind himself and going to where he had placed a fresh jug of water earlier. He poured some into a cup and guided it to Vilkas’ mouth, making him sip it. When Vilkas pushed it away a moment later, Farkas complied and put the cup back down before sitting with his brother. “What was the dream about?” Farkas asked as Vilkas lowered himself to lie down. 

“I was burning, Farkas.” 

“You probably have a fever,” Farkas remarked with concern and felt his brother’s forehead, only to have his hand pushed away. 

“No, I was on fire in my dream, but I wasn’t burning. And I was talking with a grey wolf, who left me alone and went to his nest and it was full of daisies and moths.” 

Farkas was grimacing. “You should rest as well.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

Vilkas fell quiet and rolled onto his side, hiding his face from Farkas. It was strange for Farkas to see his twin so subdued, opposed to being his usual aggressive and assertive. Giving his brother’s arm a reassuring rub, aware that it was the shoulder which had been shattered and then mended by the copious amounts of potions he was given, Farkas then left him to rest. Vilkas’ manner confused him but he tried not to dwell on it. 

Farkas lingered in the hallway, unsure what to do with himself now. His need to eat had vanished and he just stood dumbly for a moment. Then he remembered Aela; after the initial fuss over both Ellayna’s unconsciousness and Vilkas’ wounds, she had retreated into Skjor’s chambers. For memory, she had not left it for two days. 

With a new resolve, Farkas went upstairs to Jorrvaskr then into the kitchens. There he boiled water to make chamomile tea and retrieved a plate of bread spread with gooseberry preserve and cheese. He took that down to Skjor’s chambers and knocked quietly before entering. The chamber was dim, with only one candle in its metal lantern still lit but that too was nearly out. Aela was on the bed pallet, facing away from him, holding one of Skjor’s heavy wolf pelt cloaks around her limp body. Farkas put the food and steaming tea on the cabinet beside the bed then went to the candle. Using a taper, he light more candles, providing much needed light to the dank room. It smelled of sweat, wolf and despair. 

Aela finally stirred, her hair messy and her cheeks lined with the dried tears that had moved and smudged the war paint on her face. She went for the tea instead of the solid food. Sitting upright with the cup in her hands, she stared into nothing. Farkas sat on the edge of the bed, letting the silence hold until he spoke, “What now?” 

She simply shrugged. He considered telling her of Kodlak’s journal, but knew that it was better for her to face her grief. If she knew of something like what Farkas and Ellayna had discovered, she would use it to ignore the death of Skjor and suppress those emotions. No, Aela needed time to mourn. 

“Were you mates?” Farkas asked without thinking, cringing just after he said it. 

“Of course we were fucking mates,” Aela swore with a cracked, miserable voice. Farkas had not lost many people; both his harbingers in a short amount of time and other shield siblings, but this had all happened so quickly. Kodlak had been dying for a long time, but Skjor was taken too soon. Farkas felt the pain of the loss but he was still struggling to understand it. He had been separated from a loved one, in his case Ellayna, but Farkas had not experienced the loss of a lover. Let alone watch him fall, pierced with silver and hollering with agony. He couldn’t imagine how much pain Aela was in; he did not want to imagine it, already full of his own grief. 

They sat for a time in companionable silence. Then Farkas left her to eat and mourn in her own way, knowing that if Aela wanted him, she would find him. 

For the next few days, Farkas alternated between the three people he really had left. Although the other Companions helped in any way they could, such as Ria and Tilma making sure food was always available and Athis going to fetch Arcadia when Vilkas really did break out in a fever. Vilkas was fine after taking another health potion and getting more rest, but they wanted to limit how many of the bitter little potions they used on him for fear that his body would become reliant to them. Farkas was the one who monitored his brother and the other two, looking after their needs and caring for them. In Aela’s case, that usually meant he simply sat in a comfortable silence with her, giving her company and lessening her burden of loneliness without being intrusive. Farkas found it easier not to speak in general, just to listen or sit in silence. Unless he was with Ellayna, then he wanted to talk to both talk to her and listen. Whenever he went to touch Ellayna he had to make himself remember that they were no longer together. As for looking after her, she resisted him, wanting to be free of constant restraint of being made to rest. Regardless of having been through the most physical pain and extremes, she was easily the most recovered and the only one not willing to keep resting. Farkas was uneasy about it but put it down the dragon inside her. 

Ellayna and Farkas were together in Aela’s old chambers, which had now become Ellayna’s. It had been a week since she woke from the failed attempt at giving her the beast blood and it had been over a week since Skjor’s death. Vilkas was up and moving around again, although at that moment he was asleep or at least had been when Farkas last checked on him. Aela was still residing in her pit of despair and they left her to sort out her own feelings. 

Farkas was lost in his worry, relaxed back in the padded chair with his head leaning on the chair’s back. His eyes were slipping closed and his was fighting back sleep. 

“Just come lie down if you’re that tired,” Ellayna suggested, sitting on the bed herself. She, as she always did, had her noise in Kodlak’s journal. She was inseparable from it, studying ever paragraph with such interest Farkas didn’t know how she kept her focus on it. 

Too tired from sitting up with Aela the previous night, Farkas took her up on her offer. She was the only person now who it did not feel as though he was looking after. Lying down beside her, he quickly lapsed into sleep and he was able to sleep for hours. 

It was only when the door opened that he shot upright, ready to defend and protect Ellayna at all costs. Amused, Ellayna pushed him by the shoulder back down. Ria was standing in the doorway, slightly shocked at Farkas’ reaction. She recovered when Ellayna smiled and beckoned her inside. “What can we do for you?” Ellayna asked the nervous Ria. 

“I…” She fidgeted with her hands, eyes darting between Ellayna and Farkas. Farkas was barely awake but he kept his eyes open, just to see what was going on. “I wanted to apologize to you, Ellayna.” 

“For what?” 

“Everyone treated you badly, once we… found out about everything,” Ria blurted, the rush of overdue words coming quickly. “I’m so sorry. Having seen you fight, and having you around here again, even if we don’t see much of you, I realized how horrible that was. You didn’t deserve it, and I’ve dishonored myself by treating you like how the others did.” 

Ellayna genuinely smiled and Farkas loved the sight of it. “You’re more honorable than you think purely because you did apologize. Thank you, Ria.” 

Nervousness gone, Ria bowed her head in acknowledgement and relief then left. Farkas grinned up sleepily at Ellayna. “I told you it was not a problem.” 

She shook her head. He considered for a moment, knowing that they were not together, then reached for her hand. He brought her fingers to his mouth, then was delighted when she bent down to kiss him. Before their skin touched, a crash came from outside. Ellayna jumped and sat upright, frowning. Worried that it was his twin, Farkas was quickly on his feet and trying not to think of the opportunity he had missed. He left Ellayna alone on the bed and left the chambers. 

Out in the passageway, the crash had been Vilkas. He dropped his empty jug of water, causing it to smash into dozens of pieces against the hard wood floor. Farkas was about to speak when he lifted his eyes to follow Vilkas’ gaze. A tall, blonde woman clad in dark, fitting leathers strode toward them. She carried herself with pride and unmatched confidence but it was what was in her hand which caused the shock. By its thinning hair, she carried a severed head of a crinkled, old and snarling witch. The woman passed them, smirking as though she knew something they did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, there are only three chapters to go!


	25. Whatever Happens

Astrid’s bringing the witches’ head was excellent news, but how Ellayna was going to explain this to Farkas she didn’t know. He lingered in the corner of the bedchambers, reluctant to let Astrid out of his watchful gaze. Already he had decided not to trust her. Frankly Ellayna couldn’t blame him; when Astrid walked inside initially, she had kissed Ellayna fully on the lips. Farkas didn’t know what to think, despite Ellayna’s reassurances that they were simply old friends. 

Tossing the head of the Glenmoril Witch onto the ground –which would mark the end of the old rug, now splattered with the gore from the severed neck– Astrid joined Ellayna sitting the edge of the bed. “So, darling,” Astrid grinned, her hand on the small of Ellayna’s back. “You didn’t say why you needed the old hag’s head. Not that I’ll complain about doing this one little favor for you, it means I get to see that lovely face again.” 

“You already know about the werewolf situation–” 

“Ellayna!” Farkas was mortified.

“Hush,” Ellayna held her hand out for him to quieten. “She knows.” 

“I’m married to one of you canines,” Astrid looked Farkas up and down, a wily smile spreading across her mouth. “You’d be about as big as him, too.” 

Farkas flushed red and clenched his jaw, opting to not reply. Ellayna gave him a look conveying both an apology and amusement, then continued. “As I was saying…” Then she proceeded to explain the details about the about Hircine and Kodlak’s want to go to Sovngarde to spend eternity in Shor’s glorious hall. Farkas looked uncomfortable the entire time, wary of Astrid and the situation as a whole. They had yet to tell Aela or Vilkas about their plan to separate Kodlak’s wolf’s soul from him. At least now they had the first piece of the puzzle; a head of a witch from the coven which cursed the Circle originally. 

“I understand,” Astrid nodded. “What else do you need?” 

“We’re working on that.” Ellayna was reluctant to tell her about Wuuthrad. No matter how much she trusted Astrid, the assassin was always thinking of ways to benefit herself and though she had done much for her, Ellayna did not want to put so much faith into one person. “I told you in the letter to take the head to Ysgramor’s tomb.” 

“I wanted to come see you, and if a left a severed head alone, the wolves would have gotten to it.” She was looking pointedly at Farkas. “I need to be back with the Dark Brotherhood as soon as I can.” 

Farkas surged to confront her, but Ellayna had her hand out again. “Do you trust me, Farkas?” Ellayna demanded. 

A silence fell as Farkas hesitated. Ellayna was a little offended until she remembered how many times she had lied to him and kept things from him. No matter the feels that he had for her, she had lied through her teeth more times than she could remember. Astrid was eying them both with one raised eyebrow until Farkas made up his mind. “I trust you.” 

“Since we’ve sorted that,” Astrid smiled condescendingly at Farkas. “Would you mind leaving us be so we can talk privately? I promise I won’t kill her; we’ve been through too much together, you see.” 

After Ellayna nodded in encouragement, Farkas left, troubled about the entire situation. First they find out that Kodlak had been keeping a piece of Ysgramor from them and the knowledge of how to break the curse, now they were getting favors from the Dark Brotherhood. What next? Farkas thought with irritation. This cannot get worse. 

Ellayna watched him leave, then turned to Astrid. “You understand why I can’t tell you everything?” 

“Of course I do. I love you, darling, but I don’t tell you everything either. In fact, that’s the reason I have to get back to the sanctuary. I’ve done something I wasn’t supposed to and betrayed people I shouldn’t have.” 

“I take it you won’t tell me more?” 

“Correct.” Astrid gestured all around them, “It was my understanding you’ve not been a part of the Companions for a few years now.” 

“I wasn’t until recently,” she grimaced. “I don’t actually know if you can call me a member, actually.” 

“And the protective giant of a wolf is the man you left when you left the Companions, yes? Explain what’s going on there, darling.” 

Ellayna shrugged. “In honesty, I don’t know,” she began to grin. “Tell Arnbjorn that I’ve had a taste of what it’s like to be a werewolf.” 

Astrid was genuinely surprised. “They’ve changed you?” 

“They tried. I rejected the blood, but was a wolf for a night. I don’t really remember it though.” 

“Interesting…” Astrid rose to her feet, facing Ellayna with her hands on her hips. “What will happen once you’ve done whatever you want to with your dead harbinger?” 

“Honestly?” Ellayna cringed. “I don’t know. I’m not inclined to go back to Ulfric or align myself with anyone else. Maybe I’ll see to the issue of world-eating dragons, and if I’m still alive after that, I’ll wander. Maybe in a few years, the Dovahkiin will become a distant memory and I’ll be free.”

“And your wolf?” 

Ellayna recalled they had nearly shared another kiss they shouldn’t have just before Astrid made her presence known. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.” 

Astrid turned on her heel toward the doorway. “I think you have.” 

Giving a regretful glance at the severed head on the ground, progressively ruining the rug further, Ellayna followed Astrid out of the chamber and all of the way to the doors of Jorrvaskr. Many of the Companions, including Farkas, were sitting at the rectangle table, pretending to pick at their food while unsubtly watching Ellayna and the strange woman. When Astrid pulled Ellayna into a tight embrace, Ellayna had the distinct feeling of dread wash over her that she would not see her old friend again. “You really got yourself into trouble this time, huh?” 

“Whatever happens will happen,” Astrid pulled back and kissed on her mouth again. It was not a romantic gesture, just a reminder of how close they had been years ago. Astrid gave no other goodbyes and Ellayna did not move to follow her out of Jorrvaskr. 

Once the doors had closed and the image of Astrid’s back was gone, that was when Ellayna turned back to the center of the hall. Everyone had apparently been staring and looked down immediately at their plates or tankards when Ellayna turned around. She looked over them all for a moment, believing that she saw Njada’s cheeks redden and knowing that Farkas’ did. Athis, after a moment, leaned back and settled his eyes on Farkas. “That’s new.” 

Ellayna touched Farkas’ shoulder, ignoring Athis and the others, “I think we should explain everything to Aela and Vilkas now.”

***

It was expected that Vilkas and Aela would have been angry that Ellayna and Farkas had not told them of the find immediately. But what actually happened Ellayna was less comfortable with. She could have weathered yelling and shouting, and was more than ready for arguing, yet that’s not what happened. Aela stared into nothing, completely impassive. Ellayna was not sure whether or not she had heard anything that was said. Vilkas was chewing on his bottom lip, and although he appeared to be holding back words, he gave no complaint or rebuke. Lost about what to say now, Ellayna clasped her hands in her lap and nodded, looking to Farkas for support. They were gathered in Farkas’ chambers, having decided that it was private and neutral enough for everyone. Farkas and Vilkas sat on the bed, Ellayna lingered standing and Aela was looking small seated at the bar.

Farkas was clearly just as lost for ideas. “What now?” He asked sheepishly. 

“Take the piece of Wuuthrad up to Eorlund,” Aela commanded. Her voice was stronger than she looked, regardless of her grief. “Just tell him there’s another piece, not that you think it’s the last.” 

“What if he asks?” Vilkas questioned. “Does he know about the beast blood?” 

“Give most of the truth,” Ellayna suggested. Out of all of them there, she was the best with deceit. “Say Kodlak had it hidden away, but don’t mention why.”

Nodding, oddly accepting what had been said, Vilkas stood up. “I need a walk to clear my head, I’ll take it to him.” Farkas gave the fragment of Wuuthrad over and Vilkas left with it. All Ellayna could think of how civilly this was going and wondered when something would go terribly wrong. 

When Vilkas was gone, they fell back into silence. Ellayna and Farkas repeatedly exchanged glances, both unable to find any words, until Aela spoke again. “We will leave tomorrow morning and have the journey to Ysgramor’s Tomb to prepare for whatever confronts us,” Aela’s hard, silver gaze settled on Ellayna, making the hair on the back of her neck stand straight. “Are you in the Companions or not? Give me a definite answer.” Ellayna went to glance at Farkas, but was interrupted. “Don’t look at him. Answer me yourself.” 

Gritting her teeth, Ellayna tried to decide on the spot. What she had said earlier to Astrid was no lie and it would be better for her to be tied to no one for a while, even if that meant leaving like Farkas dreaded. When Ellayna offered no answer, Aela sighed deeply. “Tell me your answer by the time we return from this last request of Kodlak’s. I have to know by then, Ellayna, so we can decide on where the Companions go from here.” 

Relieved that she was no longer on the spot, Ellayna nodded to agree. Immediately after, Aela rose and wordlessly took her leave. 

“I was hoping you would answer straight away,” Farkas admitted. “I would like to know, too.” 

Ellayna smiled fondly at him, taking deliberately slow and wide steps toward him. “Do you know what I miss, Farkas?” She slipped her arms around his shoulders, knees between his, and his hands settled on her hips. The two of them always had fit together perfectly. She bent to kiss him briefly then pulled away. “Puppy.” 

Farkas frowned, then found a gentle smile. “You said to me that you weren’t my puppy.” 

“Yes, well. I may have been overacting. Being the Dragonborn is a dangerous occupation,” she wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t want you involved. Still don’t, I’d like to add, but I don’t think I’d like to go another few years without you.” 

Farkas pulled her to him, pressing a kiss to the skin of her chest, unable to reach her mouth from there. “If you’d like, then, I’ll call you puppy again, pup.” 

She kissed his head, smiling, able to forget of all the troubles with Kodlak and Ulfric, and the underlying issue of Alduin, just for a moment. 

“Puppy,” Farkas mumbled. “You shouldn’t keep running away.” 

“I know,” she replied, hardly making sound. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters after this...


	26. Glory of the Dead

Even to Ellayna, Wuuthrad was a marvelous sight. The dark grey-blue steel, crafted as a double sided axe with the exaggerated head of a screaming elf in the center. The majesty that was held within the ancient metal was clear to everyone. The Circle, once Eorlund brought them his finished work, passed it between them, holding the sturdy metal in hand as though it would shatter like brittle glass. When Vilkas held it, the wonder in his eyes clouded over with regret. “We can’t even share this moment with the other Companions yet.” 

Farkas didn’t follow. “Why not?” He demanded. They were all gathered in the cold, gloomy cavern that was the Underforge for the very reason of secrecy. 

There was an awkward tension following the silence that overcame them and everyone but Farkas looked toward Eorlund. The broad shouldered nord sighed, held his hand up in understanding and turned away. “I’ll not breathe a word.” Once he was gone, the pressure from the tension rapidly evaporated. 

“Because they can’t know of the beast blood, they don’t know of why we must take it away from Jorrvaskr and out of Whiterun,” Vilkas snapped. 

“He’s right,” Aela added. “They’ll want answers we can’t give. No, until this business with Kodlak and the beast blood is over, no one else can know.” 

“They’ll question why we’re all leaving at once,” Ellayna took the axe as Vilkas gingerly gave it over. The metal was heavier than the others made it seem and, being used to a bow or magic, Ellayna struggled with the weight. The musculature Ellayna gained over the years weren’t the sort that helped her lift this sort of heavy weapon. Farkas reach over and with one hand aided to steady her. “What are you going to tell them?” 

“We can’t keep lying,” Farkas remarked. “It’s not fair, they are Companions too.” 

Aela shook her head. “They aren’t members of the Circle, they don’t need to know. We aren’t obliged to answer all questions.” 

“They’re not fools,” Vilkas asserted, “Not Athis, Njada or Ria. They will begin to guess and won’t get it right, which means they will think the worst and blow the entire situation out of proportion.” 

“How about we don’t give them enough time and leave now?” Ellayna suggested, giving Wuuthrad over to Farkas completely. 

“We can be back within two weeks. That’s too much time without explanation.” 

“Which is worse?” Ellayna snarled, “Explanation and revealing the Circle’s secret or no explanation and dealing with a rotten witch head? Let’s just go. We’ve already gathered what we need, the supplies and the bedrolls. We’re ready.” Over the night it had taken Eorlund to complete his repairs on Wuuthrad, the Circle and Ellayna had gathered, purchased and made all that they required for their journey and stored it inside the Underforge. It looked as though that work was about to pay off for them. 

“I’ll go tell everyone we’re going–” Vilkas began to offer, but Aela held her hand up. 

“It would be better that I do it,” Aela insisted, using that voice everyone knew not to object with. She left them to it, signaling to the supplies lined up against the wall, waiting to be shouldered and collected. 

“She would be a good harbinger,” Farkas mused. 

Vilkas made a face of indecision. “I don’t think she wants to be, or wants to have the weight of that responsibility. She’s always valued the amount of freedom she’s had over the years.” 

Ellayna made no comment. How could she, when there was still a possibility that she would leave the Companions? Instead she went to where the supplies where. Evenly, she distributed what they needed to take and left what Aela would carry while the rest of them organized themselves.

“Pup,” Farkas held out Wuuthrad to her with one hand. “Shouldn’t you be the one to carry it?” 

Farkas didn’t think twice about his insistence but the jealousy that briefly clouded over Vilkas was clear. Ellayna smiled and then shook her head. “You carry it, Farkas. It’s too heavy for someone used to light armor and bows.” 

He nodded, accepting her reasoning. The tension from Vilkas evaporated. That was one argument averted, at least. Truth be told, she didn’t need Farkas’ twin disliking her any more than he already did. 

Once Aela returned, they left through the Underforge. It was a mutual decision that their journey would attract too much attention if they paraded through the center of Whiterun. Especially with both the Dragonborn and the mythical Wuuthrad in tow. Once they collected their mounts from the stables, Ellayna with her mare Butter, Farkas with the horse Ellayna named Freckles years ago, and both Vilkas and Aela with random Companion owned horses, they began their journey to the Tomb of Ysgramor.

***

It took near two weeks to reach the tomb. It was luck they reached it when they did; Vilkas was not a well man. His recovery from having his shoulder shattered proved not to be complete. Whenever they encountered trouble, usually in form of a pack of ice wolves or a lone frost troll, Vilkas was nearly useless. The first few times, he tried to fight; swinging his greatsword caused him immense pain and was not nearly as effective as his attacks were when he was healthy. Due to Ellayna’s ranged weapons and magic, Vilkas safely tucked himself away behind her when fighting broke out. Aela or Farkas would have helped him but their melee style combat would have left him open to attack –Aela had been using a sword, insisting that they only needed one bowman with them for this mission. At first Vilkas was reluctant to do that, but when his health deteriorated more, he was grateful for the aid. Despite all of Vilkas’ vileness and envy toward Ellayna, something in helping the man had formed a bridge between the two of them. Though they were no friends, there was a new and unspoken air of peaceful coexistence.

But by the time they reached the tomb, Vilkas was sick indeed. He suffered terrible nightmares and had become feverish, regardless of the potions they gave him. Healing him with magic helped more, but Ellayna was not as skilled with restoration spell as she wished she was. Getting him out of the frosty winds and layers of thick snow, they descended into tomb and burst through the front door, blowing snow in behind themselves. Aela forced the stubborn door closed them while Farkas clung onto his twin, waiting for Ellayna to lay down the bedroll. Once that was ready, Vilkas was lowered down onto it with much fretting and fussing by Farkas. 

“I’ll be fine,” Vilkas hissed low, out of breath. “I just need some rest out of the cold.” 

“You can hardly move your shoulder,” Aela snarled. “Damn it all to hell, I thought you’d healed.”

Ellayna dropped her bags down beside were Vilkas was. She had taken them from Butter just to be sure nothing was tipped out of them. “We can take him to the College of Winterhold after this,” she suggested. “I know some people.” 

Aela wasn’t all that surprised. “You joined the College?” 

“Not exactly, I just needed some new destruction and conjuring spells and had to do a few jobs for a certain Faralda and Phinis Gestor. I’m sure one of them can call a favor in with Colette Marence.” 

“You know what, I don’t want to know, so long as you get him fixed.” 

Vilkas snorted the word, “Fixed,” before grunting in pain and lying down fully. 

“What about the horses?” Ellayna asked as everyone but Vilkas shed their thick, cold weather cloaks that had been draped over their armor. Though Ellayna was mostly covered by her glass armor, and her cloak, she was still freezing cold outside; how the others managed to managed without complaint was beyond her. 

“Leave them outside,” Aela gave the command and it was followed. “We can’t be long. Kodlak wouldn’t want Vilkas dying on us.” 

“I hope not,” Vilkas mumbled from the floor. 

Ellayna took Wuuthrad from its place secured on Farkas’ back. She now cast her gaze over what could only be described as a shrine dedicated to Ysgramor. On a dais stood a ten foot statue of Ysgramor, clad in heavy armor with a tall, decorated helm, his empty hands held out in a position that indicated Wuuthrad had rested there once. At his huge stone feet were various gifts he had been left over the centuries. Some were small bottles of potions, others bear or wolf pelts, or iron helmets or daggers. Judging by one set of flowers, people had been there relatively recently. With some difficulty and a lot of maneuvering, Ellayna returned Wuuthrad to Ysgramor’s grasp. As she did so, an unseen mechanism groaned and opened the stiff door behind the shrine. 

“That was surprisingly easy,” Aela scoffed. While she and Farkas were focused on the door, cautiously peering into it, Ellayna quickly bent down and plucked a small coin pouch of the ground someone had left as an offering. Upon weighing it in her hand, Farkas looked back and settled a disproving eye on her. 

“Finders keepers?” Ellayna grinned. 

“Put it back.” 

“Ysgramor doesn’t need it, or does Shor’s Hall charge tax?” 

“Puppy.” 

Giving up, Ellayna returned the rather hefty pouch back where she had found it. 

“You three better come back,” Vilkas mumbled, through gritted teeth. “Or I’ll die here.” He wasn’t just concerned for himself. A gruff voice and nearly permanent scowl didn’t do anything to fool Ellayna, not now. 

Aela and Farkas grew out their swords and Ellayna pulled her helm over her head then readied her bow, attaching an arrow to the string. She went in first; it made sense, as if anything was far away, she wouldn’t risk shooting either of her comrades. In that moment, she recalled in sickening detail how she had shot Farkas, in his beast form, in the leg when Aela first taught her. 

“What’d you think we’ll find in here?” Ellayna asked in a hushed whisper, creeping through the usual ancient style crypt hallway. Just as she said that, a skeever ran at her, its ugly rodent fangs bared. Ellayna yelped, flinging herself back as she shot it. Bumping into Farkas, she watched as the skeever squawked and collapsed. 

“I think that’s what we’ll find,” Farkas grinned at her. 

“Of all the creatures in Skyrim,” Ellayna muttered. “I hate skeevers the most.” 

They had to continue, luckily not being lunged at by any more skeevers. Ellayna, as they were trekking through the dank and dim hallways, lit any torches or lanterns they came to. She was preoccupied by lighting their way when something caught her eye. It was blue and shimmering and walked toward her in the form of a warrior. When its eerie blue head turned and looked at Ellayna, it reached to its back and began unsheathing its sword. Ellayna, quicker than the spirit, fired an arrow into its chest. It stumbled back, and when another one hit it, disappeared into nothing. The only sound was the clatter of the two arrows falling to the ground. 

“There aren’t anymore,” Aela said, returning to the pair after going a search of that room. “We should continue.” 

Farkas snorted. “I don’t know about you, puppy, but I preferred the skeevers.” 

“Agreed.” Ellayna collected her two perfectly good arrows and they moved on from that chamber. It was the next, larger chamber that caused issue. Inside, there seemed to be some sort of throne in the center, and to every side there were the black, upright tombs common with Nordic crypts. About half a dozen pale blue ghosts crept out of these tombs, locking onto the first Companion they saw first. Knowing what to expect now, they didn’t have much trouble defeating those spirits. The only injury was a minor cut Farkas sustain on his upper arm, which he quickly assured he would heal later because it was likely he would only get more gashes. 

They moved onto the next room, becoming more wary. This chamber was twice as large again; the center was lower than the rest of the room by a few steps and there was a thick layer of oil over it. Ellayna, with a swift scan of the room, estimated there were fifteen ghosts emerging from their tombs. “Avoid the oil,” she told them as the two slipped passed her, hurrying to the other side of the long chamber. They would deal with the ghosts there and leave her to the ones at the front of the chamber, but she hoped frantically they heard her warning. 

With one hand, Ellayna conjured her trusty flame atronach then took to firing well placed arrows at the ghosts. The ghosts, however, seemed to learn from how their follow spirits died. They soon became adept at avoiding Ellayna’s line of fire. If they made a mistake, she got them, but with so many around it was becoming increasingly difficult. There were more than she first counted. Placing her bow over her shoulder, she willed her magic to her hands. Fire flowed to her fingers and she hurled a fireball at the nearby ghost. It had presumed wrong she it witnessed her sheathe her bow. She managed to destroy three more ghosts that way until she heard feet behind her. Narrowly she avoided the sword thrust of the ghost, feeling the power of the Voice build up in her chest. When the Words, “YOL TOOR SHUL,” escaped her, the ghost was send flying back wrapped in the flames of an inferno. The inferno not only engulfed that ghosts, but anything unfortunate enough to be in the soaring blaze’s way. 

It was what happened when the ignited ghost hit the ground. It had not yet disappeared, which meant the flames still clung to it. The place where it landed was the oil in the chamber’s center and Ellayna knew a split moment before that she had made a mistake. When oil erupted, the entire tomb shook. Ellayna, standing rather closed to the edge, was knocked from her feet. The breath left her lungs when she hit the ground and she was suddenly very glad for her armor, especially her helm. If it wasn’t for that, she would have been severely burnt instead of just a little bruised. She also very nearly crushed the witch head attached to her hip. After a pause to regain her breath, she was on her feet again. Her atronach had survived, waiting nearby and passing the time with nimble steps. That was sign that the explosion had destroyed the remaining ghosts. Her heart missed a beat when it occurred to her what else it could have killed. “Farkas, Aela?” She called out shrilly, running passed the burning remains of tree roots with the atronach floating along behind. “Farkas?” 

She could see them now, in the doorway of the next room. Aela was forcing Farkas to drink out of a little red vial. Ellayna was running more quickly now, nearly tripping over when she reached them. Farkas’ skin was rejoining itself, but the faint scaring from the burns would always be there. Along both upper arms, on the inside of one and the outside of another, and one side of his jaw, pale silver scaring would always be noticeable. With wounds so serious, even healing potions only saved the drinker, not made the marks invisible. “How do I look?” Farkas grinned, wincing as he did so. 

After removing her helm, Ellayna tucked it under her arm and reach out to touch the scared part of his jaw. “You’re going to have a lopsided beard,” she smiled, unable to stop the pounding in her chest that made her breathless. That was far, far too close. “But you’ll be fine.” 

Aela threw her head back and drank a potion for her own wounds as she, too, had burning on her skin. One the backs of her legs were the only place and she had been standing further away than Farkas had been. Once she was also healed and they got Farkas on his feet, he insisted on continuing. “I’m fine,” he repeated, “I’m fine.” 

“As long as you say so,” Ellayna pulled back on her helm. “Just don’t go dying on me.” 

“I wouldn’t do that to you, pup.” 

They pressed on through to the next room, until they found it blocked with cobwebs. Farkas blanched, murmuring, “I’ve decided I’m not fine,” under his breath. 

“You’re staying right with me, you giant softy,” Ellayna brought flames back to her hands, having let her magicka recover. “Or, at least, behind me where I can protect you from the spiders.” 

“You make them sound small,” he grumbled as she ignited the cobwebs, “They’re not small.” 

There were two chambers crammed with the horse sized spiders and dense cobwebs everywhere. Farkas, as Ellayna suggested, stayed behind her. Between Ellayna’s destruction magic and her atronach’s fireballs, they managed to well and truly char all of the frostbite spiders inside. Even the largest spider, twice the size of all the others, resembled coal more than a deal creature when she was finished with it. Exhausted of magicka now and with her atronach gone due to the length it had been summoned, she let Aela and Farkas lead into the next room that was pleasantly less spider-infested. Unfortunately, now there were more ghosts. Ellayna hung back that time, but as they advanced again and there were –surprise surprise!– more ghosts, she took up her bow and arrows again. There were never as much as there had been in the room with the oil, something to be thankful for. 

Eventually, they came to the last chamber. It was wide, with open stories at both sides and an incline in the center where a brazier of blue fire burned. It had to be some important, Ellayna mused privately. 

“Kodlak?” Farkas mumbled, blinking in disbelief. Ellayna followed his gaze and found what he saw. Another light blue honest, only this one had a gentle old face they knew very well. 

“You’re not hallucinating, at least,” she mumbled and began toward Kodlak. He had his hands out to the brazier, as though he warmed himself with the eerie flames. 

“Hello, Ellayna,” Kodlak greeted her with a warm nod. “I see you found everything I intended for you.” 

“You old…” she shook her head. “All you want is for me to cure you, isn’t it?” 

“You came all this way. My fellow Harbingers and I have been waiting here, hoping to avoid Hircine’s notice.” 

“I won’t ask why I can’t see them.” 

A smile spread over his transparent face. “Believe me, my dear, they can see you in all of your glory and honor.” 

“Does this head work on just you, or every harbinger here?” 

“Just me, for now, but that’s all I ask for. Please, Ellayna, do this for me.” 

Ellayna was unhooking the witch head. She gave a glance at Kodlak as she lifted the head into the blue flames. “All about redemption, aren’t you?” 

He smiled as she dropped the head inside. Immediately the fires took hold of it; crackling and the scent of burning flesh came as the head disappeared into the insanely hot flames. Kodlak’s form distorted and flickered with black, pulsing through his body. He was laughing, not screaming though. From his shadowy form stepped the blood red figure of a wolf, the beast over six foot at the shoulder. Farkas and Aela would have helped, she knew, if her weapon of choice hadn’t been flame. It took much of her already depleted magicka, but the snarling and fierce beast that had kept Kodlak imprisoned was dead. At the last collision with the fireball, it let out a shrill, agonized howl and dispersed into nothingness. 

Kodlak was waiting nearby, his spirit having gone to stand with Aela and Farkas for the last time. Out of breath and feeling a sort of weight lifted off her, she began toward them. “Thank you, for everything,” Kodlak nodded. “You’ve freed me, even if my brethren remained enslaved. Perhaps I could free them. Ah, that would be a marvelous sight. The heroes of Sovngarde invading the hunting grounds of Hircine,” shaking his head now, he freed himself of those thoughts. “But you, all three of you in fact, must return to Jorrvaskr. I can feel news times ahead, with a new Harbinger leading the Companions,” he smiled, stepping forward, “I can think of no one else but the Dragonborn herself.” 

Just like that he was gone, as though his spirit had never been there. Aela and Farkas stayed silent for a moment, then erupted with conversation. Ellayna just stayed still. She knew then and there what she had decided.


	27. Safe Place

There was two reasons why Kodlak chose Ellayna as harbinger; one was that she was the Dovahkiin, and the second was because she had changed. She was no longer that lying, smirking woman who twisted her way out of whatever she didn’t want to do. Now, she was more than that. More than a thief and a lair. Maybe she had done enough to deserve being harbinger, but she still felt as though she lacked the honor that was at the core of being a Companion. 

Ellayna left that room and found her way back through Ysgramor’s tomb, glancing back repeatedly and only to find Farkas following her. Aela must have stayed behind. Was she disappointed Kodlak had chosen Ellayna? With someone like Aela, it was difficult to be sure of the answer to that. 

Vilkas was barely conscious when she arrived at the entranceway. Initially, Ellayna’s thoughts had only been on taking Butter and leaving immediately. A nagging feeling in her chest stopped her from doing that. Kneeling down beside Vilkas and checking his breathing, she chuckled to herself as she realized that she her development of a conscience was complete. First she cared about soldiers dying needlessly, now she finally cared about what happened to someone like Vilkas. She certainly was a far cry from the person she had been. 

“I thought you’d leave, pup,” Farkas mumbled as he came through the doorway. He too was rapidly at Vilkas’ side. 

“We have to get him to the College as soon as we can. Let’s get him up on one of the horses.” 

Vilkas was not as board and tall as his twin, but that didn’t mean he was a light man. It took all of Farkas’ strength to lift him up onto a saddle and all of Ellayna’s quick reflexes to make sure he stayed there. If Vilkas’ balance was precarious at best while the impassive gelding stayed still, he didn’t have a chance on the snowy slopes that led up to Winterhold. 

“The horse can’t take my weight as well,” Farkas gave her an apologetic smile. “You or Aela will have to hold him up.” 

Aela made her very conveniently timed entrance. “I’m not going.” 

After both Farkas and Ellayna blurted, “What?” At the same time, Aela shook her head. 

“I’m going straight to Whiterun,” she explained, not looking at them as she began to prepare her horse. “The others deserve to know.” 

“You can’t tell them about Kodlak,” Farkas protested. At first Ellayna thought the same, but soon realized Aela had something very different in mind. 

“How will you tell them that Kodlak wants me as Harbinger?” Ellayna demanded. “Surely you can’t without revealing the secret of the blood.” 

“You said it yourself, before we left. Half-truths. I’ll only tell them what they need to know. But like I’ve said before, they’re fine people. They deserve to know Kodlak’s decision.” Aela vaulted into the saddle, flinging up snow as her feet left the ground. Urging her horse on with a tug of the reins and heels dug into the steed’s flanks, Aela began to leave. 

“What of my decision?” Ellayna called out angrily. “And what about Vilkas? Don’t you care?” 

“We can take care of him, puppy,” Farkas reassured her. Aela was already in the distance, riding as swiftly as her mount could in the snow. “We’ll have to go, he shouldn’t stay in the cold. He’ll get worse.” Ellayna was so focused on Aela’s disappearing figure that she hadn’t heard. But she did hear the next words. “I’m worried for him, Ellayna.”

She nodded, coming back to herself. With a little difficulty and a lot of maneuvering, Ellayna was hoisted into the saddle and positioned herself in front of Vilkas. There wasn’t any way she could have seen passed him if he had been in front of her, so instead he was slumped over her shoulders in the most uncomfortable way. He was almost has heavy as Farkas, and that was saying something. Farkas mounted Freckles, and holding onto Butter’s reins to lead the mare, he led the way. Ellayna just let the horse beneath her follow, focusing as much attention as she could on Vilkas. Falling from a horse in his condition could mean death before they got him to Winterhold. 

It was easily the slowest going and exhausting rides of her life. They did not stop to rest in the evening, instead mutually deciding it better to get Vilkas where he desperately needed to be. 

They way into the actual city of Winterhold is a little confusing and obstructed by rocky outcrops, but once Farkas actually found the entrance, they moved straight through the city and onto the bridge leading to the college. It was nearly dawn by this stage –somehow they had traveled through the whole night– and nobody was minding over the bridge. 

They took the horses into the college, unable to see any other way which they could easily get Vilkas inside the immense stone fortress. Once inside, it didn’t take long for Ellayna to wake almost everyone up and call in her favors. If she had been anyone else, they probably would have been literally thrown out of the college. Ellayna’s status as Dovahkiin had some perks and this was one of them. Vilkas was seen to nearly immediately by people with restoration abilities far superior to Ellayna’s. 

Ellayna slept away the morning. Farkas, no matter how tired and chilled he was, stayed awake. They had been given a chamber and asked stiffly to leave the chamber Vilkas was in, so not to disturb Collette Marence. An advantage of the beast blood was, while they could sleep, they required it less than someone without. Farkas just sat by the lit hearth, warming himself as he waited for both Ellayna to wake and to hear news of his poorly brother. 

When Ellayna opened her eyes and her mind was pulled from her sleepy haze, she was immediately hungry. It was like a gaping hole in her belly. She was quick to spy food on the small round table just behind Farkas. She gave him a small fright when she sat on the spare chair, having been unintentionally moving soundlessly. He watched her for a moment as she stuffed the cheese and bread in her mouth, washing it down with the too-watered wine. “If I was you,” Ellayna gestured him and spoke through her mouthful. “You could’ve said I was wolfing it down.” 

“But you don’t have the beast blood,” he shook his head and smiled in a way that meant he was trying not to enjoy her jesting. “So you can’t make terrible jokes, puppy.” 

“And here I was, thinking you liked my terrible jokes.” 

He chuckled and looked back toward the fire. Ellayna finished filling her belly, now perhaps a little too full, and sat in silence for a while. “Have you heard anything yet?” She asked softly. 

Farkas knew what she was talking about. “No.” 

It wouldn’t be for another few hours that they were told Vilkas would be fine. He was resting, and after a few days, he would be fit enough to travel again. 

With the long road ahead of them once Vilkas was healthy again, Ellayna and Farkas began gathering supplies for the journey back to Whiterun. The entire time Ellayna wondered what she would do about the Harbinger situation; part of her wanted to run. The other part wanted to stay with Farkas and the Companions. Wasn’t that her constant state of mind, being torn between those two things? This situation, in all honesty, wasn’t new. But there was an added factor this time, and his name was Ulfric. She was his Dovahkiin, the Dragonborn he relied on to win so many of his battles. But what sway did he truly have over her? He pays her, gives her everything she wants. Ellayna, by this stage, had enough coin keep her going for the rest of her life. None. The only reason she had stayed was because during those two years, she could do nothing else. Now there was an option. 

The day before they left the college, Ellayna went to go see Vilkas while Farkas was getting some sorely needed sleep. Vilkas was sitting up in his bed, reclined back against a mountain of pillows, with a tray and a bowl of soup in his lap. He looked up at Ellayna and then instantly back down at his soup, like the entire world relied on him focusing on his soup. With her arms crossed across her chest, Ellayna stood just a few meters away from his bed, closer to the door than him. “Farkas told you about the Harbinger situation, yeah?”

“Of course.” 

“So what do you think?” 

Vilkas looked up her now, his lips pursed. Ellayna couldn’t read him at that moment and the two just stared at each other while she waited for him to speak. When he did, he seemed more sure of himself. “If you’re the one who Kodlak thinks is right for Harbinger, then I support it.” 

“That’s–” Ellayna was genuinely taken aback. “That’s not what I was expecting.” 

Now Vilkas sneered, “Don’t you have a lot of faith in me?” He dropped into being serious again. “A fool could see that you’re, uh, strong enough to lead.” That was as close as she was ever going to come to receiving a compliment from him. 

“That doesn’t mean I’ll be a good leader.” 

“But _that is_. You’ll question yourself and your motives.” 

“You being _supportive_ is a little strange.” 

“No wonder, especially when you’ve stolen my twin from me.” Ellayna didn’t reply, waiting for Vilkas to speak again. Vilkas could read that on her face, “But you make him happy.” 

“… Thank you.” 

“And if you leave him again, I’m going to drag your fucking ass back to Whiterun.” 

“That’s fair,” Ellayna flashed him a grin. “Believe me, you won’t be having to drag my ass anywhere.” 

That was all which needed to be said between the two of them. Ellayna left him there, more confidence in her step. The conversation had given her an idea and she went immediately to Farkas. There she began to collect what else she needed to leave, including food supplies and grain and oats for Butter. Farkas was watching her, not saying anything but becoming increasingly distressed. This reaction increased tenfold when Ellayna changed into her trusty glass armor. 

“You’ll have to take Vilkas back on your own,” Ellayna was standing in front of Farkas now, piled with and hanging on to all that she needed to take with her. “But I promise I’ll come back to Jorrvaskr.” 

There was a moment of doubt. That fleeting expression was replaced by trust, and Farkas nodded his acceptance. 

“I can’t really hug you…” Ellayna sheepishly smiled at him, lifting for a second the saddlebags she held. Farkas exhaled the tension that had been mounting in his body and he stepped forward, where he pressed a kiss against her forehead. Even when he pulled away, she could feel the warmth of the kiss lingering. 

Without any other goodbye, Ellayna climbed all of the stairs up to Savos Aren’s chambers and thanked him for his hospitality. After that, she made the trek through the permanently snowy Winterhold to get to the stables where the horses had been relocated after the first night. After readying Butter and giving Freckles an affectionate pat, she set off. 

It took just as long as Ellayna expected it to for them to reach their destination. Skyrim horses were sturdy, and despite the harsh weather and the violent wildlife, Butter endured and both of them arrived in the also eternally snowy Windhelm mostly unscathed. Leaving Butter still readied with all of the saddlebags and supplies, Ellayna began through the city she had grown to known too well. During her two years away from the Companions, Windhelm was where she always reported to because of Ulfric and this was where her house full of material objects were. She felt no attachment to anything here. Every single guard knew her and every single one she passed gave gestures of recognition, along with a mumbled, “Dragonborn.” Most of the townspeople knew her by sight as well but she avoided them this time, easily done as many were inside to eat a midday meal. Slipping through the familiar streets with easy, she pushed the towering but dull doors of the Palace of the Kings. 

Jarl Ulfric was where he most often was; seated up on his throne. He not only seemed to be asleep, but also alone. It was a good thing; Galmar, regardless of all his inbuilt Nordic harshness, doted on Ellayna and would have stopped her from doing what she was about to do. 

“Ulfric,” Ellayna called out, rudely and bitterly pulling him from his slumber. His eyes flung open and his instantaneous reaction was to reach for the grip of his sword, but sank back into relaxation when he saw it was Ellayna. “I need to talk to you.” 

“Can’t it wait?” Even when he was weary his voice still boomed. 

“No. I’m leaving the Stormcloaks.”

It took a moment to sink in. Ulfric opened his mouth but closed it again. He seemed to be waiting for an explanation, unable to trust himself to speak. 

“I am going to be Harbinger of the Companions. That’s all you need to know, and if I’m there with them, I can’t be your “golden girl”. I won’t be, in fact. You can keep your allowance, the house, all the jewelry and clothes you’ve given me over the years,” she held her chin up at him defiantly. “You can’t keep the horse, she’s mine. Think of her as the compensation for all the shit you’ve made me do for the last two years.” 

Ulfric looked as though he would throw himself to his knees and beg her to stay. No matter how much Ellayna would have enjoyed that, it was pride which made him stay firmly stuck to his throne. Then he tried to threaten her, to challenge her refusal to continue her services for him. Ellayna, very matter-of-factly, told him that should he try to do anything, she would not stay neutral. She was bluffing when she told him that if he tried to force her to stay, she’d join the Imperials. She very much intended to stay neutral in the Civil War like the rest of the Companions, but it was that bluff which freed her. If Ulfric couldn’t have the Dragonborn, then at least she would stay neutral. 

Walking out of the Palace of the Kings, Ellayna had never felt freer. And free was certainly the right word; it was like shackles had been removed and for the first time in years, she could stand up properly on her own two feet. 

She wasted no time in leaving Windhelm and changing course to head south-west. It was difficult to bear how slowly the days went; Ellayna was so eager to get to Whiterun and then Jorrvaskr, every task seemed to take twice as long. Sleeping was the worst; she was too excited to sleep. It was genuine excitement, too, something she had been hard pushed to feel for a while. Farkas would already have arrived with Vilkas and would be waiting for her. 

When the silhouette of Whiterun finally came into sight, Ellayna let out a laugh of glee. It had taken far too long. After she left Butter in the experienced hands of the stable-master, she almost ran through Whiterun to reach the mead hall of Jorrvaskr. Unfortunately for her, almost everyone was waiting for her when she arrived. Everyone who was sitting at the rectangle table in the center of the hall stood, every single pair of eyes on her. She noticed then how much the Companions had dwindled in numbers since she first arrived. Perhaps that’s what she could do for them, restore their former numbers? 

“What’s your decision?” Aela demanded outright. Nobody else made a sound. Vilkas was there, watching alongside Athis with his hand resting on the latter’s shoulder in reassurance. Ria and Njada stood together as well. Farkas as absent entirely. 

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Ellayna placed her hands on her hips. 

“You do that for me.” 

“That’s a fair observation. But is that anyway you should be addressing your Harbinger?” 

Relief washed over Aela. “I knew you’d take it,” she whispered, then grinned widely as she turned to the other Companions and raised her voice, “Ellayna, the Harbinger Kodlak chose as his successor. May she bring herself and all of us honor.” 

Ellayna suffered through feeling very awkward at the chorus of applause. As soon as it quietened down, she was able to get close enough to Aela to mumble, “Where’s Farkas?” 

Aela shook her head, “You’d have to ask Vilkas, I haven’t seen him today at all.” 

“Thank you.” Ellayna clapped Aela on the shoulder as she moved passed her, toward Vilkas and Athis. Ellayna plastered a smile to her face; even if Vilkas had more or less given Ellayna his blessing, there was still the issue of Athis. 

“Harbinger,” Athis nodded to her. He looked toward Vilkas then stepped away, most likely having heard what Aela had said. 

“You won’t have to worry about him,” Vilkas said quietly, speaking about Athis. “Not now.” 

“He listens to you that much?” 

“He does, and he also respects Kodlak’s decision. Everyone here does. But you asked Aela about Farkas,” Vilkas grimaced. “He went to that ‘safe place’. I don’t know where it is, he’d never tell me.” 

Ellayna had an idea. She thanked Vilkas then slipped passed everyone. Going down into the sleeping barracks, she found the chest containing the few items she hadn’t taken with her on their journey to Ysgramor’s Tomb and changed into them, feeling the release of removing her armor. In a blouse and trousers, but was careful to keep her quiver of arrows and her bow on her person, she returned upstairs before leaving Jorrvaskr. Everyone was beginning to celebrate, and the celebrations would only continue after she was properly made Harbinger with ceremony. 

Once outside of Whiterun and away from where the guards could see her, Ellayna thought long and hard about Farkas and how she wanted to find him. Then, with a simple casting of the spell, she used Clairvoyance to light her way. Then, with determination fitting, followed it. The illusion led her through the woods south of Whiterun, just like Farkas said when he had first talked about his safe place. Narrowly avoiding a run-in with a sleeping bear, Ellayna kept going until the illusion lead her to an especially thick area of trees and bushes. It was close to a sheer cliff face and when Ellayna pushed her way through –with a lot of difficulty, mind you– she nearly stumbled into a small ditch. The clear area of grass was just under a cove in the rock-face and in the midst of the small clearing, Farkas was sitting. He grinned when he saw her, and nearly got up until she motioned for him not to. “Stay where you are,” she instructed, removing the quiver and bow from her back. Then she went and sat behind him, her back against the rock. Taking the hint, Farkas lay back with his head in her lap. 

“How’d you find me, puppy?” He asked while they were still getting themselves comfortable. 

“Quietly literally with magic.” 

“Of course.” He closed his eyes and melted against her as she began idly plaiting a section of hair his hair. “Have you been to Jorrvaskr?” He asked softly, almost frightened to break the quiet. 

“I have been. I’m Harbinger, now. I didn’t think we’d ever have to deal with that.” 

“I’m happy to follow you as a leader,” Farkas frowned ever so slightly. “But what about Ulfric?” 

“That’s where I went, to Windhelm. I am now a neutral Dragonborn.” 

“Has a nice ring to it, pup.” 

“Doesn’t it? And I don’t think I’ll have to worry about Athis anymore. I think Vilkas has that under control.” 

“While we were traveling here, Vil told me about the conversation you two had.”

“Oh?” 

“He’s happy for me, I think. At last.” 

“Everything really is working out. It’s a nice change,” she studied his familiar face. “I still have the issue of being the Dragonborn, and Alduin is still out there. But that, I can deal with later,” she smiled down at him. “I don’t regret this, Farkas.” 

When he smiled, little lines gathered at the corners of both his eyes. “Neither do I, Puppy.” 

She leaned down, pressing a tender and upside-down kiss against his lips. They were happy, and for now, that’s all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! I know that the Clairvoyance spell totally doesn't work like that but you know, for the sake of the story. I wasn't quite burnt out on this but I think if I prolonged it any more (it's already about seven chapters longer than I intended) I would have been. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
